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jason

fat jason, thin jason
jason with his faggy hair cut
jason walking home, first bag of weed in hand
jason’s hands in red clay
jason on a rock at the park with my sister - if
jason were a guitar chord, he would be a B7
jason's tongue in my mouth
jason disregarding his dad to find his father
jason the sea monster
........ singing "abalone shells are prettiful to me"
jason calling christian a christian
jason in the psych ward running for dictator, buying the sun
jason not answering the door
the door never said anything interesting anyway
jason tasting a rock at the halfway house
jason painting a dandelion mine
jason working in the plastics factory
jason saying, "You have... growths"
jason laughing like a buddha
jason lighting my sock fuzz and saying, "smells like enya"
jason chasing the cat with a camcorder
jason like a super-pumpkin riding a black bike
jason's tongue in south virginia
jason swearing fuck fuck fuck
........ for a broken bottle of booze jason
........ vacillating between medications jason
........ an addict before he ever smoked
jason
standing higher because of callouses
jason tickling us until we peed

jason came to visit a few years ago. this was the last time i saw him,
but i don't mean to imply that he's dead. in fact, i just got word
he's doing ok, and is able to visit his children. when he came in,
he took off his shoes and smiled, but you learn not to trust someone
who is capable of changing without warning. we sat in the living room
and made small talk for an hour, then he left.


~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~

This is my second(?) attempt at a list poem, which means I am a little nervous about posting it, which means I am writing this little note. Some of you may recognize this from the night I got a little stoned on benedryl. Yeah, I thought I was hearing the neurons in my head firing that night. There was this electrical kind of crackling in there.

ok. list poem thingy.

enjoy.

did enjoy it manna.

Though it suffers a bit from reading like, well, a list.

If each line somehow built/related with the next/previous more, the work would have more power.

the little scenario at the end rings true for such a character.

.

Jonah Winter wrote:
Sestina: Bob

According to her housemate, she is out with Bob
tonight, and when she’s out with Bob
you never know when she’ll get in. Bob
is an English professor. Bob
used to be in a motorcycle gang, or something, or maybe Bob
rides a motorcycle now. How radical of you, Bob—

I wish I could ride a motorcycle, Bob,
and also talk about Chaucer intelligently. Bob
is very tall, bearded, reserved. I saw Bob
at a poetry reading last week—he had such a Bob-
like poise—so quintessentially Bob!
The leather jacket, the granny glasses, the beard—Bob!

and you were with my ex-girlfriend, Bob!
And you’re a professor, and I’m nobody, Bob,
nobody, just a flower-deliverer, Bob,
and a skinny one at that, Bob—
and you are a large person, and I am small, Bob,
and I hate my legs, Bob,

but why am I talking to you as if you were here, Bob?
I’ll try to be more objective. Bob
is probably a nice guy. Or that’s what one hears. Bob
is not, however, the most passionate person named Bob
you’ll ever meet. Quiet, polite, succinct, Bob
opens doors for people, is reticent in grocery stores. Bob

does not talk about himself excessively to girlfriends. Bob
does not have a drinking problem. Bob
does not worry about his body, even though he’s a little heavy. Bob
has never been in therapy. Bob,
also, though, does not have tenure—ha ha ha—and Bob
cannot cook as well as I can. Bob

never even heard of paella, and if he had, Bob
would not have changed his facial expression at all. Bob
is just so boring, and what I can’t understand, Bob—
yes I’m talking to you again, is why you, Bob,
could be more desirable than me. Granted, Bob,
you’re more stable, you’re older, more mature maybe but Bob . . .

(Months later, on the Bob-front: My former girlfriend finally married Bob.
Of Bob, she says, “No one has taken me higher or lower than Bob.”
Me? On a dark and stormy sea of Bob-thoughts, desperately, I bob.)

- Ploughshares, 1999


Not a list poem, well, not exactly, and mine's not as good as this, but, but...

.

Oh gawd, that is hilarious: a one-word sestina.

If anyone doesn't already know, a Sestina usually has the same six (different) words used at the end of each line and there is a specific 'rotation' of the order the words need to be in each stanza.

To simplify it and use a single word in a such a funny manner is a hoot! Thanks for the morning chuckle.

Laurie

.

Sorry if this disappoints you (violet) but nothing I said had anything to do with what you said.

cheers,
L

.

[The gentleman from South Virginia has the floor.]

"Nobody's not a citizen of South Virginia.

"South Virginia, most glorious state of any union.

"South Virginia, home of Mount St. Ellen's phenomenal eruptions.

"South Virginia, deep thinkers, come think warm with us!

"South Virginia is for lovers (but not the only place for lovers).

"South Virginians, unite!"

Casey

Casey, you're totally nuts. I like you.

imaginary friend wrote:Casey, you're totally nuts. I like you.

I'm speechless. "Totally nuts" is genius metaphor in response to a South Virginian's speech like the above.

If it's not metaphor I'm still speechless, not wanting to incriminate myself. :-)

Casey

Obama will be the next President.He is change ,focused.and genious with words

as for Jason he is sick

jaco bi

jimbo wrote:Obama will be the next President.He is change ,focused.and genious with words

as for Jason he is sick

jaco bi

Jason is only as bad as our minds draw him, based on how we perceive the poet's metaphor. Who is sick then?

Obama, on the the other hand: I can see why his genius with words laughs all the way to the bank...

I just can't yet see exactly what turned his heart to stone.

Words don't matter in elections today anyway...

McCain may be the real genius, he's suddenly made himself much prettier to look at, and how hard is that?

Personally, I'm neither left nor right. Who signs the death sentence hardly matters, does it... If it isn't already signed.

Casey

Violet wrote:... Every time I get to "is able to visit his children" I crack up.

I don't know why that is funny.
But neither you nor Casey tend to make much sense to me.

As for Jason, I loved him very much for a very short time. He is an important figure from my adolescence and early adulthood. He was never easy, and this poem is like the stick-figure version of him.