poetryrepairs #198 v14.03:027
JOHN GREY : Hawk Devouring a Pigeon
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Hawk Devouring a Pigeon
High atop a telephone pole, a hawk devours a pigeon. Can't identify with that fat flouncing rock dove, that feral mooching sky rat. But nor can I sympathize with feasting raptor as it rips into the guts of the unwanted, even if there's hungry chicks high in the cliff beyond. The haughty hawk has the death of song and soaring on its talons. And the act itself does nothing to ingratiate though I'm well schooled in nature's cruel necessities Screams are screams, blood is blood, whether in forest heart, city park, or tenement alley. Banquet over, a solitary feather flutters down, lands at my feet. Wind blows it away. I feel for the feather but I side with the wind.

poetryrepairs #198 v14.03:027

All the fine arts are species of poetry--Samuel Taylor Coleridge

poetry repairs your heart
even as it splits it open.
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JOHN GREY, an Australian born poet, works as a financial systems analyst. Recently published in Bryant Poetry Review, Tribeca Poetry Review and the horror anthology, "What Fears Become" .


Skylines bogie down quickly, clouds rush by like Cossacks there is a funeral, there is jazz. Bourbon Street swells appropriately for a local musician has died, the porches above the streets are full of revelry and beads. The procession flows like Owsley's acid from gutter to neon gutter, the dancing surreal, the colors pinwheel. I'm tourist, not a mourner really though I did like his music. It occurs most funerals are earlier in the day. He apparently loved dusk, a jazz time of day, and friends partying as skylines fade. I wonder when the wake will end, the next begin, at the wine-aged sax, the skyline, his dusk, the passion rising primal from the streets, the sexual heat from his entourage as skylines bogie down quickly.

poetryrepairs #198 v14.03:027

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"Sympathy For The Devil" resuscitates our adrenalin strongbox. The trailer park's strip lights twink as we fish up the lift-thumbing Beat by the painted milepost at The Far Side Of Reality. And snatchin' at the blinker-signal dodge-dust up Thunder Road onto the cloverleaf freeway interchange and open the throttle for a chuckle at the drive-in movies.

poetryrepairs #198 v14.03:027

Poetry endangers the established order
of the soul - Plato

REPAIR: resort, frequent or habitual going; concourse or confluence of people at or in a place; making one's way; to go, betake oneself, to arrive; return to a place; to dwell; to recover, heal, or cure; to renew; to fix to original condition.
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JOHN GREY : Hawk Devouring a Pigeon

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