Corvus Agonistes
Famished
Corvid triad
Poised to
Sup on a
Slain king:
Bones to
House them,
Hair to
Nest them,
Flesh to
Feed them.
Now they
Perch outside our
Window, poised to
Claim us as we
Falter. And
Falter we will – in the
Steady flux of
Mood, air and
Fortune. That
Nevermore mania from
Pluto’s coal-black shore
Occulting the pallid
Cast of Reason. That
Black Shuck
Handle for crippling
Despond shadowing his
Stride through
Whitehall and Chartwell,
Keening upon the heels of
Gallipoli. That
Jackdaw-pun
Insignia of
Family omen in Prague – a
Mind stalling at
Minds sharing his
Inner plight. He
Pictures such people – but cannot
Picture the secret corbie that
Circles his head
Circling theirs.
Absurd, malevolent
Worlds he creates,
Inflecting the
Absurd, malevolent
Worlds we create when we
Fixate on figures of
Light, neglecting the
Night we bracket and
Beget.
Shadows deepen in the
Deathly shallows,
Offsetting that
Fable-fetish of
Unmitigated felicity,
Wherein the
Demonic can gain
Ingress -
City-upon-the-Hill
Beacon for
Ear-cut, hang-witch
Massacre.
©Jan Peters/Solivagant Wisdom, 2026
Partly inspired by
The Three Corbies, a traditional
Scottish ballad, Edgar Allan Poe and
Franz Kafka.
"Twa Corbies" - illustration by G. Howell-Baker from his book, Penholm (1901)
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