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Click hereWe spy something red -- fur thick
with temptation. Modern crows
understand speed of asphalt,
though a murder never resists... and Jesus
hung on yellow. There are three crosses
(two pale as nowhere) on a hill,
away from where birds dine
on something spied.
The Run seems endless,
as does the stillness of red,
the agony of yellow.
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copyright d. dixon
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are excellent, as was the whole poem, but the last two lines...
you know, I also write/wrote roadkill poems, I have one I am gonna resubmit, I bet you remember it.
enjoyed, as usual
:)
j
I always feel sad when I see crosses along side the road and for the flat fur spots too. Ange said what I was thinking about the punctuation, but I'm a little thick-skulled on the parenthesis and its contents? Other then that, you make roadkill poetry rubberneck worthy.
And such wonderful poetry comes from that warped mind of yours! Love the wordplay (esp. the way that first "Jesus" works as both explanation and exclamation); don't love the ellipses and dashes (but that's me). There are so many ways to interpret this poem, which to me is a real strength. Recommended in today's New Poems review thread.