20170723

Jesse Glass



Small Escapes for Tiny Readers


1.

Pity this

divided by

Not                into Known

remaindered

by Loss:

black swan
of
qliphoth fame

If there is a secular

white;

into which
men walk
their minds

count magpies,
sweet wild boars

on the moors

their dance
all stretch & tremble.

& The eye-lacerating flares…


2.

Iridescence
                in depth

star
                in contagion

is not
                into now

and trudges up
and sprinkles nowhere

nothing
                of air

O
                Pivot
For a wonder

nothing
                Of art


3.

(song)

Postman post man
fall down in a heap

the birds are cuckcooing
across the lake

they sent a letter
they need a letter

postman does a heart
beat beneath your golden shirt?

get up from the sidewalk
dust off yr. bulk

and deliver the new day
to itself.

3.

Still
                the water

sings, sings, sings,

look up

                a hole
in fall light
dayseye

pressed
                sooner

golden coin
                ripples

palm
                to palm

sinks
in one rusty spot

of weather


5.

little
                feather’d
derisions
decisions

Till I arriving—“I” is’t ?


6.

Broken
                fiddle

was the bird



No BlAmE fine day’s sun “this is Peetie Wheatstraw high sheriff of hell” you can see the city’s blue backbone embedded in sandstone (white clouds hang low above it.) as from a great distance: “this is Peetie Wheatstraw high sheriff of hell” and two squirrels wrestle as they fall from backyard treetop bend the last branch you bend too touch toes 15th February your shadow your floor your head turns in the sky smooth graph of joy (gold) zigs thru the oriental rug, then zags. you could dance to the old needle circling silence but prefer to contemplate the hour with glazed eyes one finger on the brow one call one response as from a great distance “the way I strut my stuff well well you never can tell.”



Famous American Poets

what does a famous American poet see
when he’s drowning?
a cork box full of stone wheels

or when he’s cut
a fine blue vein?
Jonathan Edwards opened to the 45th page

or when the hose is taped
correctly
& the motor idling?
ten clowns beating fists
on the hood of the family car.

famous American poets fly south to Cancun
& over-tip the waiters; use artificial tears
to lubricate their pity

make absurd lip-smackings
into microphones
as they thumb their precious pages
& decide whether to speak plainly or to moan that evening.

Their nakedness tucked away in suits
laced up in granny dresses, deodorized,
vacant, they share their delicate

bafflements
with the World.



Jesse Glass' recent appearances include three pieces from Gaha Noas Zorge featured on the Poetics Research website, and a recent poem in The Golden Handcuffs Review.
 
 
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