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