Tuesday, February 12, 2019

Five Poems By Jay Passer


Jay Passer's work has been all over the place and he has had a couple chaps published just last year, from Pski's Porch and Alien Buddha.


MAYBE STRAVINSKY WAS ONTO SOMETHING

lingering at the bottom of a lake
fragile as cellophane 
the type that gets lodged in the throat of a fish
prior to suffocation.

I’ve been reading mysteries
and masturbating frequently
as the oceans infinitely roar
while the sky owns its own patent on symphony.

in the cosmic sense I just arrived
but I’ve pretty much had it up to here
an effortless drop in the bucket
a ballet performed on a frozen minefield



THE SLUMP

I am so tired
Tied to the bedposts
Revenge style

I write down thoughts
Like haiku
Without any poetic license

Medical examiners
Get away with more
Bad career moves

Locked up in the secured wing
Simmering in the soup
Of the sad-ass soul

I am exhausted
Looking forward to
Renewal



HOW VERY ENDANGERED

how would you like 
to be
extinct?
your mirror image
your trapped spirit animal
your incapacitating injury
your debilitating disease

covered by daddy’s insurance

don’t ask the billionaires for any help
your film idols
sports stars
entertainment whores

the animals covered with oil
after a tanker spill
the journalist posing the
truth
assassinated
these things matter little

when you’re extinct

quit texting your booty
you fucking self-serving
swan

everybody oughta know

the duck
is your mortal
enemy



RAIN POEM

I’m thankful it’s raining today.
It justifies staying home, lying in bed
And not being shot by some maniac on the street.

Of course, an earthquake could hit
Or the psychopath in the White House could go nuclear
But today I’m optimistic.

If I were a hummingbird
I wouldn’t be thinking about anything like this
But I know I’d be glad for the rain as well



.I SPY

I know they won’t
but they ought to preserve my body 
for the scars alone
for proof of existence
scars don’t come easily

surely they’ll archive the Ray-Bans
for what they’ve seen through is
as hideous 
as a World War
sweating in the pocket of your pants



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