2-color Risograph booklet on 80# text Domtar Cougar Vellum Offset White, Loop stitched, 40 pp, 5.25” x 6.25” / Edition of 100; 25 signed & numbered by the author / $6.00; $8.00 signed at trnsfrmag.com
Presented as a series of auction catalog entries, Jared Joseph’s Commuting: Have…
SIX DOLL ARTS
rused side is a turn away
from the light is a turning toward
soft possible metal a ruse? A rose
is complicated circle. In its petal ascents
temptation of bees. Mind collaborative
palliates this Yom, this amen on skin.
Today the mailman woke me up at 1.
I was dreaming of 1 green argumentative
of its status, green. There was blue to compare
& prove. There was a girl I love
after the bus arrives. There was a letter
in the mailman’s box & two identical German
gods. They were wrapped, goodly. They were
gods. I already knew what they were
a proof. A proof of love invalidates love
or the purity. I want palm chaps & date
palms’ fruit. I want to go on dates. I want
for Vitamin D from the sun. I spend all
my time in the sun I have an inexorable
skin amen. It blocks everything the way a cigarette
blocks & kills the body & makes the body
carnivorous plants grow I have a bloom in an ash pot
I wouldn’t recognize an ash tree but
my dreams are on fire until the sun on a poet
burn them to obliterashes in inaccessible God
gave me a stutter I overcame with my leave-thing shame
Shame opening wrench I open a lady.
I’ve abandoned many children I want to see grow
up the sun I condone myself beneath down possibles
like duck down, consolations, etiole, eau de violet, crater
on the page I hide a rose at the corner of the page
my fingers I gnarl by bite & effort, gnarl is a turning
away from & towards a peculiar strength.
i wrote so many poems called “s c a t t e r s t a t e.” one of them went up today on a place i have loved and read for a long time called everyday genius. bonus round: these cows have been poisoned by rocket fuel in the soil.
Born in her hair
heir to the ocean waves
the Pacific lives
In the morning
by the mouth in the mouth
dream-muzzled & whatever
Dream-puzzled & whatever
thoughtless on the quay
the quay on the quay
on the quay the quay
on the quay
it’s not spectacle i watch
it’s not lush pleasure
pleasure where i lived is done
drowns out the mount the moat
the other hopes i don’t leave
hopes i don’t live
the world ends yesterday
yesterday dammed up waters on the quay
draft unwritten lays
pregnant & curious
i’m sleeping more that’s curious
in a glorious mouth
the month is too huge
the sex is too huge
the monk is me & her
the rest swallows sign-sensitive
animals gauzing in the morgue
no longer wonderful
what else gets me up
Bacchus wants his coffee
Bacchus wants in his mirror
a golden person
what reflects off reflects on me
what golden to begin with
i beg to be golden person
but i don’t know birds’ names
but i don’t know plants’ names
*
i know the dispense menagerie in me
i know the TV on
i don’t know what’s a noise
i see one is all-permitted
when one has sunscreen
one is all-permitted like a bowl of popcorn
i see on a screen one has knowledge bandaged
one has vantage on the internet
i know rhythm gets in & ravish
ravishing yes your hair
ravishing in your vintage
Betty thumbs through Pages
of herself doesn’t arrive
doesn’t come
*
it is like pre-
breakfast or something
or something
the bowl of chocolate no
the bowl of wedges of oranges with the green leaves of the orange tree
is its name orange tree
Rilke’s rose-in-bowl obsession
the rejection of Rilke is its name orange tree
there are small children
there are small children like
like lets go to the beach to no one
am i full
am i full of nothing?
heavily so
if i play act i’m a play moment
or acting ready star in movies
what better
what society mores better
what readiness
what chocolate chocolate
it’s in the bowl before me
it’s reading
it’s in the bowl before me
there this makes a marvelous sell
this is so tits.
& hole & product & planet
& hole & product
& hole
&
glow-shell
a two-part selling point study
pro-duct
pro-hole
what was gazing so longingly
what is mouth.
what is mouth
but a little hole in the compass
in the dreamhole silts of last year
what is mouth but all of last year’s salts
so as to make my, trauma, un-
allowable as the sea
*
throw up all the same pink color
pink glasses pink turtleneck dithyramb
pink down-feathers fabled pink
the seas a salve
the sea is
say it with me a solution
a solution in the glass
full of lush frogs
firm she was for me soft
was an aesthetic problem
for me she was south the whole mouth not just south
of whatever
soft now everything enter
ether i’d down that
i moth flutter down
i icarus wax
the wax from the fall hard
i caught in a guppy net
very thin & fine latex i
i stick it to the prayer skin
the bone paper down to tissue paper
i stick the muscles to nervous eros
nervous a verb a verb is nervous
i try-go i try-force again in Nintendo
i stick the muscles to nervous eros
reaction them to death
eros eros eros
& the story throes tell the story
& a euro for the music box again
& the story throes tell the story
the story stows away
away with me
let the stories be good.
let the stories bore me goodly well
let the stories bore me please good god
good god
bore through me
conquer lover please
bore me to death.
*
Glorious moth
poly form play form
assumption up
readymade
readiness
read pest
read piece
read lack
priest
reach mad
read head
read flute marsh read
eros head
read eros heed
past psst
read in the face of smoking paper smoke
read in the mouth
read in the wound
scored the scar in a searing
huge sore year
a huge year blimp
a blimp huge as a year
& the capitalists
& their crystal meth
is very fine
is very fine
varying in shatterwave
in shatter-danger
in shatter-drought
in graded paper
in gills
in huge fucking fish
in huge magnitude of small casualties
bore me to death
bore me to death
market me
market me & goods & sex
rubber zeppelins
rubber rubbers
bore me to death
fuck my very name.
my statue of liberty costume
looks way different
than yours
foamghast—my second e-chapbook of poems—will be released by NAP this month.
Gaze pivoted toward
Is the messenger of
In wind the cardinal
Points carried in the hum
Jihad is not a pillar
Like sunset of the night
There hair is no prey
Words & acts as form of
All must be done varies
Varies, of course, from one orator
To another their hair to violence
At the midday of dawn
…
Jon Leon reading one year ago.
Now, Mom.
Mom of Now.
Eat bread with me.
Break bread from me
I’m son.
I’ve laid with everyone.
I’ve been the light weighed on their skin.
I’ve been the measure of their holy removed
Foreskin
Forefathers?
I’ve lain with him.
I’ve lain with everyone.
I’ve lain with pretty much everything.
Very pretty.
Very pretty lashes.
Very thing ashes stuck to their cashes
Wallet, I’m a whore.
I’ve a whore name.
I’ve a searched love.
I’ve cavity-searched love.
I’ve been the latex glove.
I’ve torn the hearth glow bricks with my pushups
(I’ve been dyslexic for money & fun)
pushups to prepare the rip up muscles.
My rippling muscles gone skipping on the lake
I’m stoned.
I’m ripped.
It sets an example.
It ripens the woman, it sets the women on edge.
It sets the edge on fire I
My name, my smooth name of hair.
I’m a lion on fire.
I’ve ripped Hercules in halves
a number of times.
For a hero’s love or for a peasant’s love?
It tore me to do so.
It set bare pretty pure.
I name every flock of ash my garland my pyre
I garland my rope-neck in fire
I noose & mane in loose fire.
I’m little licks and the tongues.
I nick off my part.
My part so hard to part from.
The hard part is it departs.
The garden of fire the garlanded pyre
I step into the pit of it.
I vault to heaven
I thicken it.
Thy vaulted heaven.
Thy heave disclosed
Discourages.
I dewclaw & cleave
I close.
It wet coughs my life
Its leaves do!
Its left
Now I am a mule.
They break me with their want of fuel!
One doesn’t fuel a mule.
One can’t, can’t
They search me for a side hatch.
A little side chamber of gas.
I have ancestors like that
Ancestors trapped like that.
I don’t have a side trap.
I myself am the chamber of gas
Burning off the rider
I burn off my rider.
I call my rider wife
We slow dance in leather straps
We’re hot to trot on rasping coughs
The floor is hot.
The limestone floor is hot to trot.
The sock hop is an out of body experience.
Convection is hot.
I eat my wife’s shocks.
The jury tried me because
I’m fun.
Because I, like my bray, tire.
My entire being is a bray.
I sip my rail drink at the bar.
I have four legs
I request a stool anyway
My Chinese sign is as you guessed it
I’m an ass.
I munch the grass where it says don’t.
Don’t munch the grass.
It says don’t trespass ass
But I am a hybrid trans.
My mother transgressed with my father transgressing with my mother.
What’s that make me but an ass
An entire diaspora.
In this ass menagerie
I bite the leather flesh bridle
Burning the rider
Another animal
An ox that yoked the plow
like me broken, by an act,
I grasp in my muzzle
I bite his dump leather
I carry sag load
Connection is hot.
By tradition, trans as all get out
I’ll likely fuck a rat.
A Chinese new year animal
I’m looking for a hole.
The New Year’s getting old
Under his hole
Like a light
Night is a turn
Night is a tourniquet
Night is a turned naked back
Night is curves of a caught frozen bray.
Frozen means still, not cold.
Not innumerable cold.
Not the look of a bray in the cold
Which by the way
Is a blood clot
Is blue gas & evaporated
A bray is like a whole long gas chamber
It’s a closed soul
Autonomous & whole
Echoes shot into the brick
*uschwitz
Like a soul, fucked by a mule,
given impossible birth to a diaphanous
diaspora.
Tanned leather stretched karate across the night!
A aggregate A pomegranate
A distillation A pogrom
A leather prayer A shawl
A-list A-hole-slopping A-bomb
A museum maul of ash & hair & gas
B movie
Rhymes with
Anywhere else today!
Yet other ineffables!
