Black Jaye

He said, "Black Jaye, when you strike a match

you so quickly shake it out

as if each time you find you're with,

you long to be without."


I can't spare love for the Promenade

where searchlights cut the sky.

I paint my dreams in a bed of wheat

growing golden four feet high.


"Black Jaye," he said, "so small and slight

with your scarves of indigo,

why do you sing in Quebecois

telling no one where you go?"


Down by the shore, down by the sea

I loose my hair and call

to bones of birds all crossed and cursed

to stop me if I fall. 

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Comments

  1. Sigh. Beautiful. Especially your closing stanza.

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  2. A little spellsong for the time when the days gather in and the light is fragile but oh so revealing and clear. You know I love this, especially tbe Quebecois and the scarves, the bones of birds, the bird in the title. Exquisite.

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  3. Damn! +100 Hedgewitch on the Quebecois lines. And the bones/birds/cursed. Fantastic.

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  4. This is so luscious I can “see” it ... in living outrageous color!

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  5. I just fell in love with this poem!!! Gorgeous & captivating! The visions these lines bring to light will linger in my thoughts for a long time! Sheer magic my friend!!!!

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  6. Shay--Each stanza has at least one (but usually more than one) gem. I
    hope this next year is a bit more normal...

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