Jake Shaw's Blog, page 93

Blackgull

Blackgull

Blackgulls make the
Candle wax
That’s burned through
By the jar

They caw and cry
When storms at sea
Light the skies
Like L.E.D.s

It’s their sound
That smells of cold
Fire and hot ice
And powerful spices

They fly on clouds,
Lightning in their eyes
A frictious breakage
They call so loud

A storm is brought
Calls like wind
Are artfully
Wrought

The triple-point
Wax netted
Captured calls cool
In a jar

When burned,
The blackgull calls
Cry again

It’s
Pimpernickel fir
It’s
Balsam harvest

It’...

En[g]RAE[y]ged

En[g]RAE[y]ged is a passion project I took up for my English 102 class. My professor introduced me to the wonderful world of autoethnography and all the grey area it has to offer in terms of privacy and disclosure. So this paper has been edited from its original version and is formatted to fit this screen.

I wanted to write about a past relationship that was short, sweet, and ended with a sad whimper. In this relationship, a lot happened. A lot of good, some bad, and rumor mill said there was...

Fading With the Magic

Fading With the Magic

Something aboyt it
Clawing nwstalgia

The mysticism fades
And ywy ynderstand

Swme cwld nymbing
Abwyt why we’re here

Anna Kendrick
In a blue dress

Who even cares anymore
What matters

There’s tww much mwre
Tw feeeeeeeed intw

It’s nyt that the magic
Is fad i. N. g

It’s just different nyw

Everything feels
Really soft

Magic is leaving
So I should,

Should

Should…

Go… with… it.

Filed under: November Era (III)

Photographer Four

Photographer Four

It’s just a chance
Really

To catch an image
That anyone can

You just have to

Press the switch

Filed under: Images, November Era (III)

The Escapist (8/30/14)

This was a thing I wrote when I had some time to think after some life-trauma, thinking about how to distract myself from the bad stuff. I think it ends on a pretty nice note, but god I’m so damn dramatic in my content sometimes.

The Escapist (8/30/14)

Filed under: Essay

Frosty

Canon EOS DIGITAL REBEL XS; ISO 400; 1/160; 55mm

Filed under: Images

Coast Starlight

Coast Starlight

9:35am, Seattle, WA: I romanticized it.
10:21am, Tacoma, WA: Luggage
11:11am, Olympia-Lacey, WA: Prepared.
11:35am, Centralia, WA: Packing my things
12:19pm, Kelso-Longview, WA: And getting ready
12:58pm, Vancouver, WA: To leave home
1:50pm, Portland, OR: And set out
2:27pm, Salem, OR: On my own.
4:10pm, Albany, OR: It was scary
5:10pm, Eugene-Springfield, OR: When everything
8:08pm, Chemult, OR: Was so up in
10:00pm, Klamath Falls, OR: The air.
12:35am, Dunsmuir, CA: The fear...

1-800-HOTLINE

1-800-HOTLINE

Suicide mission
We’re fucked if we listen
But we have to go

Then again
There again
Against the odds

Like Vietnam
Two-point-oh
At a loss

Desperate
Broken
Wired up

We can feel our
Neurons tear
And fibers snap

Like they’re cables
Of a bridge
Or a telephone line

Crossed lines
Like a hotline
To why

We listen
And keep wits
In grit to comply

Our mission
Our suicide mission

We’re fucked if we listen

But we have to go

Filed under: November Era (III)

Central

Central

Out on plains
A wasteland
Of painted dirt

Of dirt roads
Of pathways of dust
And mountainous
Track through the
Teeth of cascadia

A blackgull’s call
Echoes from the top
Of the hill’s peak
When you peek over
The edge
To see

A new landscape
A different horizon
Of paint

Of dust

Of a journey made
To find
These plains

Filed under: November Era (III)

“They Close at Dusk”

“They Close at Dusk”

There’s a man on the
Park stage
Asking for handouts
Of spare change
And cigarettes

In a “closed to the public”
Pavilion
An auction is taking place:
The parking lot is full

The man on the stage
Is drunk

Yells at whoever passes by
About what “used to be”
While a group of teens
In angst
Sit beneath a
Bathroom building’s awning
Smoking cherry vape and
Drinking beer from tall cans

A girl can be seen
In the library,
Shelving books

The air is a cold secret

The police have
An ar...