ISSN 1551-8086
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  November 2017
volume 14 number 2
-table of contents-
  home   (archived)
  featured poets
  Jonathan Beale
  Marjorie R Becker
  Catherine Berry
  Robert Beveridge
  Bill Cunningham
  Jack Harvey
  Robert S King
  Cynthia Linville
  Genie Nakano
  Jared Pearce
  Margarita Serafimova
  Jeanne Marie Spicuzza
  RK Wallace
  Kelley White
  mailing list
Jared Pearce November 2017



    Some of Jared Pearce's poems have recently/will soon be shared in J Journal, Linden Ave, Nixes Mate, DIAGRAM, and Inlandia. He lives in Iowa.




I entered the chapel to find a thing
And sat on the pew, meditating,
The low hum in my ears the only
Company until the organist came in,
Sat at the organ, and played

Simple hymns, slow and sad, nothing
Grand. I sat on her right and could see
Her turning pages of music, keeping
Time, her feet sure on the pedals,
Never hovering for an instant,

Never thinking. The music took
Me until, later, it was all clear: together
The organist, the music, the organ,
And me showed how empty a life should be.

copyright 2017 Jared Pearce



An Evening on the Town

Once we arrived at Restaurante El Salvador, she
Explained I was in charge of entertainment for
The next twenty-one years. Deciding on the spot
Not to fall for the slipping on plantains gag,

I juggled the pupusas, waiting for her tongue to slide
The layers and find the joy melting inside, and then
She lapped the oblivion that comes from sweet humor,
Tasting like horchata and leaking from my jokes.

I dropped desayuno to smooth her palate, focus on
Where show biz wants to go: the beans of forgiveness,
The eggs of tomorrow, and the creaminess of dreams.
The laughter died down, and we were full and drowsy.

Like all good comedy, we were off to bed, fused as a tree
To the earth. In that darkness, we both were holding fast.

copyright 2017 Jared Pearce