HeyJaredStrange Bird Reviews
poetry and prose, not just about birds | focus on the environment, politics, love, and absurdism
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 7
- Latest publication
- Aug 27, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 8, 2026
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thirteen clichés that get more poetically unhinged as they progress (opens the original)
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thirteen clichés (a poem)i — your problem is above my pay grade,ii — outside of my jurisdiction,iii — outside of the bubble that swallows whole my priorities.iv — between you and god is the vast field in which your problem lies,v — and in the vastness of your field, the crops of my concern cannot grow,vi — it is a grass fire that i am unqualified to fight.vii — but if i were to own a horse, in your racehe wouldn’t want toparticipate,</
a poem written in an interior (opens the original)
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therapistthe therapist rests;rests her water bottlenext to her chairher notepad isempty, it stays;stays untouched initiallya tattoo peeks out;out from her purple oxford shirt, wonder what it says.you could always ask;ask when it getstough, a lever to pullstar trek quote, she respondsguess you’re not a nerd, she finally picksup the pen to jot;jot that judgment down.<a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img
just put the poems in the bag, bro (opens the original)
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just put the poems in the bag, bromy only wish, in the midst of an online debate(over defending the casting decisions of a chrisnolan film or arguing in favor of the fact thatmaybe school lunches are a human right), is thatthe angered person on the other side of the screenwould type a comment like: just put the poems inthe bag, bro. and at that point, with my hands resting behind my nodding head, i will let out a relieved sigh. not because i will know that i have won the encounter (as that will
a poem too high to reach (opens the original)
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tall guy poemi just want to be a tall guy, one who, when the cat jumps on top of a counter, can be a proud steward of all things too high for others to reach. he will be ten soon, his joints surely could not handle the fall.but i know instinctually he wants to get a view ofall his surroundings. but i put a fresh bag of sweetpotatoes up there and i don’t want them to tumbleto the hard ground and disturb our downstairsneighbors. i just want to be the tall steward of mycommunity and neighbors, just
response to the voicemail you left me (opens the original)
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an untitled voicemail from july fifthi am sorry that i missed your morning call, as i was writing something that i’d eventually delete but felt, at that exact moment, that i was in what the poetry community calls a flow. i read the transcript of your voicemail, where you called me rude because you call me every morning when we are both off from work, and i must admit that i know it is true. i hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, as i know you were going to ask me to make you a glass
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