A POEM; SELECTION I, OF THE CURATION
The Yellow-Eyed Raven
“Wild-eyed and candled only by the moon…”
The tar-blackened split-rail rest of the yellow-eyed Raven is brief.
Wild-eyed and candled only by the moon,
In fear, he sits. His swiftness of wing, the sounds of treble and bass in the whispering winds, shuffling leaves, and subsonic vibrations are his only clues to the world and the danger it brings.
Other sounds ring for other beasts.
The Endless sounds of ceaseless words mumbled in the minds of of those casting longer shadows, whose fears are different; but just as real.
Who are they that hear the sometimes sweet, bitter, biting, innocent, defiant, provocative, and often damning words, that from earth and ether sing to them without end?
They are poets…
The tar black full-moon night gives no rest to the wild-eyed poet. It lays heavy on his lids.
Crazy-eyed and candled only by the Moon, intrepid he sits, his mind a fiery crucible of poetic, ceaseless, singing, words;
Coming to him as freely as the whispering winds, shuffling leaves, and subsonic sounds come to the yellow-eyed split–rail raven;
Make no mistake…
I am that Yellow-eyed Raven.
– The Texas Dog Poet
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