by Jason Alan

The raven cried out, “Nevermore!”

Somewhere I had heard this before.

I had planned to retire for the evening,

until I saw it’s eyes, dark and foreboding.

His stark black feathers, ripe with age.

Those haunting eyes again, unleashed and enraged.

I asked of it to leave, holding my

fears for a moment.

But the raven was merely silent.

“Go away! SHOO!”, I said.

But the bird remained as silent as the dead.

And just as I thought of racing for the door.

Dick Cheney shot it and it fell to the floor.


What? I think Poe would be proud…