ISSN 1551-8086
return to home search for a contributing writer

seach for poems by title

archive of previous issues submissions information mailing list online store links to other interesting sites contact us  
  August 2010
volume 8 number 2
-table of contents-
  home   (archived)
  contributing poets
  Renae Andruse
  John-Patrick Ayson
  Lek Borja
  Sumiko Braun
  Terry Clark
  Christopher Coleman
  Kumari de Silva
  Chris Derrico
  Summer Griffiths
  KJ Hays
  Georgia Jones-Davis
  Eric Lawson
  Marie Lecrivain
  Noah Lederman
  Christopher Mulrooney
  Jason Neese
  David E. Patton
  Angel Uriel Perales
  Luivette Resto
  Sonya Sabanac
  Annette Sugden
  Tim Tipton
  Jessica Wilson
  Abigail Wyatt
  mailing list
Jason Neese
August 2010



art by the feral artist

    Jason fled the foothills of North Carolina and soon realized it had never truly been home. A distilled spirit roamed the lands and he decided following its scent was all he could do. A cryptic thing rarely seen but often written about, it was this classy beast that plopped him down in L.A. The world hasn't stopped spinning, so there's time.




i pray for my own soul every night
pray it into existence. make it a state
of mind.
with light acid jazz humming over the stereo
desperately trying to make the voice
in my head come back
and as the day releases it's grip
all the noise and evolution
going on
turns over
onto its belly.
just words in the bed. just another ending.

then, remembering how many times
i made up my mind today
how many times i made it make sense.
that seemed very far away now.
the insane drip drip of silence
with the covers
pulled up tight. it's easy to recount
all the times i made it work. how i solved
the puzzle
at red lights. cured this flu
waiting for the elevator.
dressed it all up in fantastically styled colors and lights.
all of that seemed very far away now
while watching headlight shine
dance across a very bland bedroom wall.
and God hides in plain sight.
that's what they tell me.

copyright 2007 Jason Neese