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My Corvid Talisman

My Corvid Talisman

On a white paper plate
on the ditch near my bosque
I leave you an
offering a handful of black
sunflower seeds and some
pieces of popcorn
I wait I have to be patient I count the days
untouched remains
on day three day
of the empty plate
over the screaming
trees with your craven
call to leave on
my empty plate a piece
of tinfoil a nesbitt’s
soda bottlecap
a milagro
you my corvid
talisman my mumbles
my benediction



Poet’s bio offered in his own words:

Biography of a Disappointed Bete Noire:

North Valley Poet, Photographer, Curmudgeon, James “jimbu” Burbank
I have suddenly come to the realization that my capacity for becoming a bete noire diminishes with every fading year. I weep. I am indeed edging toward eminence grise, but I’m over the hill I guess for bete noire.
Damn. I’ve always wanted to growl, and be respected for it. My growls might shake the world to its very core and set old men and young kids trembling in fear, I thought. But then along came the word “curmudgeon” that stuck itself to my gnarled and wizened form like a sign. Damn. I wanted to be a bete noire and ended up a bad-tempered, cantankerous old crank grumbling about the meaning of life over in the corner somewhere.
Not a bad exchange, I’d say, trading bete noire for curmudgeon. At least I’m good at being difficult. You’ve got to know what’s important in life, and being good at something, anything really, that is crucial, my friends.


Corvid photo “My Corvid Talisman” by James Clarke Burbank

Photograph of James Clarke Burbank by Jane Sprague