If I am slow enough, quiet enough,
long enough, I may present to a stone
some theory, some glib hypothesis
on the advent of time and the mewling
sense that existence, that hard and irksome thing
wedged between this and that ellipsis
is an old dead tree: heartless, barkless—
flocked with many spectacular birds
going this way and that. Raucous.
Image: David Clode on Unsplash
Published: Third Wednesday, Spring 2023
Sweet and Bitter Greens 
Thank you, friend, for all the good poems. If you have an actual email you’d be willing to share, I might have a few niblets to send your way, this and that.
Like Pascal said: “The natural misfortune of our mortal and feeble condition is so wretched that when we consider it closely, nothing can console us.”
Cheers!
Jarett C. Bies South Dakota’s Best River Raceshttps://sdbestriverraces.com/ 605-941-4940 ________________________________
HELLO, MR. B! You can hit me up at the contact email here. From there, I’ll send you my other contact info.
I love this poem – one of your many spectacular birds.
Thank you, Elliot. May I say I enjoy the pieces linked on your website.