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"Just a Thought."
by Jason Neese
A sweeping (for)ever
green sticky feet crunching
dirt bike trails. Little noses
dusted by pollen sneezing
through youth. Skinny dreams
pregnant on Schwinn's lost
in gated neighborhoods. Lost
to that frowning world parents
drink coffee over. Listening
to a TV argue in blacks and whites. Getting rowdy
lining up for casseroles and hand held prayers.
Dipped slices of That. Carmelized in this mind.
Lit love blazing through time burning everything
to a comfortable crisp.
Linoleum floors patterned
play rooms one story doll house. An island
nation. Realized to end like a tornado.
And everything changed
out to small bills.
Dead Presidents holding grim lines.
Only now knowing it's cause the cameras
back then took hours to shoot making
a quick smile impossible. Ice sculptures
melting to puddles.
*****
Jason Neese says:
"21 grams lighter after most poems I write. I blame this on poor quality coffee and endless days in LA at a cubicle. My North Carolina roots are fun times in the memory sack and happen to be the inspiration for my guy in this fine publication. I'm mainly sane and hope to expand into complete servitude to the art of writing one day. As of now, I'm just mildly hackish. So, that's good."
by Jason Neese
A sweeping (for)ever
green sticky feet crunching
dirt bike trails. Little noses
dusted by pollen sneezing
through youth. Skinny dreams
pregnant on Schwinn's lost
in gated neighborhoods. Lost
to that frowning world parents
drink coffee over. Listening
to a TV argue in blacks and whites. Getting rowdy
lining up for casseroles and hand held prayers.
Dipped slices of That. Carmelized in this mind.
Lit love blazing through time burning everything
to a comfortable crisp.
Linoleum floors patterned
play rooms one story doll house. An island
nation. Realized to end like a tornado.
And everything changed
out to small bills.
Dead Presidents holding grim lines.
Only now knowing it's cause the cameras
back then took hours to shoot making
a quick smile impossible. Ice sculptures
melting to puddles.
*****
Jason Neese says:
"21 grams lighter after most poems I write. I blame this on poor quality coffee and endless days in LA at a cubicle. My North Carolina roots are fun times in the memory sack and happen to be the inspiration for my guy in this fine publication. I'm mainly sane and hope to expand into complete servitude to the art of writing one day. As of now, I'm just mildly hackish. So, that's good."
posted by Faulty Mindbomb at 10:57 PM
2 Comments:
i falter to find any poet who lives the idea "the body is the soul of experience" any more robust and gentle as J(Syn) Neese ; a grizzly poet who suckles the woe back to joy.
a dream without sleep poet.
jason is a talent among the talents.
this particular piece takes me right back home to my own small town childhood before the malls blew up right in front of our faces.
~Sabine
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