The Howling Owl
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The Howling Owl


Glance, glimpse, gleam

a form of déjà vu

Following up on
the flippancy of flowers
I recall why metaphors are rare
In this neck of the woods.
There are no similes — implied or crucified —
for death
Nothing like or as, except perhaps
An emptiness that remains
Empty of content, direction, frivolity.
In the turning of the leaves
We have a half-metaphor for a half-life
Spent well or spent badly but…



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John E Marks

John E Marks


I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can