Skip to main content

Raven

 *So Fox in the wonder of the world sees a Black Bird going about the day. Fox goes to this Black Bird, looks the creature up and down. Fox saw a bird bigger than Crow with wedged-shaped tail feathers and thick beak. Fox says “Ho, Black Bird. You are here. I think I know you. Are you Raven?” And Raven replies "Fuck yeah, I'm ravin'. I’m ravin’ for the day and night." Or so it might be told.*


Ravens belong, like crows, to the Corvus family. Smart as smart can learn, the birds of this family maintain social ways. While crows gather in chill groups of community service, ravens more likely stay in mated couples, listening to cool jazz thru the moody night. No fault to them, ravens have become symbolic of something or other. This occurred because Edgar Poe wrote a poem about a bleak person confronted by an anthropomorphic Raven. Beating the odds, this poem became famous as an excited readership learned to mope more while lifting grieving heads to the heavens. And yet ravens fly like part of the wind, and ‘nevermore’ they see as ‘evermore’ in the instant of the instance now. Grasping in your discontent, perhaps you hold too much of what cannot be held.



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A List of Words

It begins with a scanning of light, a settlement of words. The lightly fracture of Bird sound begins in the office of seeing. Not sentiment but sense, as cool as Green in the Early days. Pasture resists nonpasture, no one Refers to none. All remains including nothing. Morning Is belief and there simply there. Tides go freshly to the point.
Post a Comment
Read more

The Left of Intention

Blistered arrangement in Obama's plant. That plant is excised with cultured cells looking for the sun. Obama brands name in this stampede, and we leak alert. A new orange smokes upon the evening landscape, parlance for yesterday, then blue over the gushing land today. Stay happy with Obama, or paralax, or the motion across the kitchen floor, of something. Something secret leaves the hives. Something secret seeks the plant. The plant is poised like anything. Tussle continues, with new verbs vectoring the continuation. Obama bravely last the night, sweatshop slogan. Our President, haply, but effort contorts all known regions of meaning. The South, for instance, the West, the North and its East, and so on, dilations. There was a lake above. A blue and now it is shining morning lake. It was above, like the cat, or even more, when we are attuned. Obama battles with all words, Even as the proposition institutes some collision hardly to be compelled. All this exceeds ramifications. Our Pr...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Citizen Would Leave

  Across lean tar pits of localised conveyance, news from sadly nowhere and other quackery. The entire rich crunch vibrates to the center, where stopping begins. Look where the adjectives go. The people as multiplied assumption and ducking away show causation by tumbleweed drift. Moral code exists as prosecution, pronounced as caring. Nuclear rocks decompose, discompose. Stictures from the one god populates the beaten numbers between us. We can all die with advantage to hear the startling judgment. The bonfire of Babylon made happiness exist. We cannot squeeze more love from this rock. Donald’s day has spoken, mellifluous tar.
Post a Comment
Read more