Here prances the proud Jackdaw
Strutting and surveying all
With edacious eye:
"'Tis high
'Tis tall
It matters not
All the more for I, the genteel Corvid,
The more
The better
The more I get
The more I got
I caren't if it's fresh or in rot.
As long as it gleams
Or can be pricked, picked and pecked
Although it seems
That I forgot
Where I placed my lot
My desirous dexterity has the spot flecked
Yea, X marks the spot!"
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Songs of the Reed
PoetryA repository of various poems that I have written over the years gathered into this publication. Influences range from Whitman, Ginsberg to Shakespeare and Milton and confluence into what is hopefully a larger collection. It'll be updated daily with...
