HeyJaredCertain Words
This is a newsletter dedicated to D. B. Schell’s lyrical poetry.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 22
- Latest publication
- Sep 30, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Aug 30, 2026
Latest issues
The Pho Song (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedThe Pho Song Rain hitting the gutters, the puddles in the street, gray days won’t go away, and wet shoes on my feet I’m nothing but tired and wet,. there’s only one place to go. Mr. Phát is serving it hot. It’s time for a bowl of pho. Walking around the rain. Can’t sleep every night. Ever since she left me, I’ve lost my appetite. I’m nothing but tired and wet, there’s only one place to go. Mr. Phát is ser
The Malaysian Store Women (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedThe Malaysian Store Women The cashier was straightening. She was just doing her thing. The counter looked in order. It was just her routine. The counter was store-long, displaying lots of stuff, Things were neatly in rows. There was more than enough. They were Malaysian women . It was a Malaysian store. They were all doing something Something meant much more One woman picked things up then set them back down. Her hands seeme
Yeoman’s Song (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedYeoman’s Song Gone is summer’s green gaze, the chatter in the trees; August’s haunting outro commencing autumn’s freeze. Comes the low, heavy wind, twisting on its limbs, running along the eaves, turning along its rims. Speaking impatient whispers, hastening winter’s press, feral against the hillside, forcing its caress. So it shakes the windowpane, whistling with each wayward gust some ancient yeoman’s song about doing what
Michelangelo (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedMichelangelo I'm just another guy in a pair of dirty jeans, using a rag to wipe my sweat wondering what it means. Decided I was wasting my time trying to get myself ahead, a foolish man trying to get his name in some book after he’s dead. I was thinking of knowing what it’s like to be truly awed I was thinking of Michelangelo touching the hand of god The rich have systems for control I'm not a graduate of their class No matt
Soon Winter Comes (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedSoon Winter Comes Stack up cord, wax the boards, fill the barns with hay. Walls of mice, fields of ice, time to kneel and pray. Cubbard the cans, bake the pans, dry the grapes and plums. Watch for geese, clean the fleece, soon winter comes. Seal for winds, hang the skins, flashing on the roof. After the bash, fill the stash, only the barrel-proof. Cubbard the cans, bake the pans, dry the grapes and plums. Watch for geese, cl
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