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Jonathan  Hayes

After several wet salmon seasons in Alaska while working in a cannery, and hoboing along the Columbia River of Washington, until joining fruit tramps and migrant workers in the red delicious apple orchard, and then driving a John Deere tractor before sunrise on slippery-dewed grass of agrarian reform, the factotum ceased. Now a barnacle-covered hermit crab scurrying from class to sea lettuce in the tide pool of San Francisco State University, by the not-always peaceful Pacific littoral.


the briefcase


1. A white rock that sizzles.
2. A $20 sack of purple grass from my dealer, Doc.
3. A six-pack of Bloodweiser.
4. A pack of menthol smokes.
5. A chorizo burrito.
6. A chair.
7. A desk.
8. A computer.
9. A dvd of Lucy Lee.
10. A day off from work.


http://www.muse-apprentice-guild.com/summer_2004/guest_editors/jonathan_hayes.html
http://eastvillagepoetry.com/OldPages/JonathanHayes.htm
http://www.unlikelystories.org/old/hayes.html
http://www.geocities.com/fivereview/hayespoems2.htm
 

 

Jonathan  Hayes

 

Michelle Kwan and Tears
 

the energy and emotions
which once choreographed the great show

are frozen and flat

now, we skate over thick ice

w/ no remorse

 

Egg Roll and Lucy Lee


("some people claim that there's a woman to blame, but i know it's nobody's fault")

it's time to clean the dust
that we have let accumulate

off the wall

two year ecstasy trip

of

anything goes and grows

now the heart struggles for a rebirth
of an empire inventing new calligraphy

settling for cheap fun at the desk
with sweet-and-sour sauce

no need for a napkin

let the poo-poo platter of the mind
blow up!

west side strawberry dakota tragedy

and the exiled muse living uptown

five minutes from the bronx

footsteps announce footsteps

"you have lost your voice to the simplicity of white trash,

and i'm not giving the ring back"

meanwhile,

sadness like the yankees losing to the twins

at home


 

absinthe


green kool-aid loony tune cinema
verlaine lip fumbles biscuit

beef jerky toss-up sidewalk
waiting for van gogh vein to explode

a horny toad is a honest toad

 

 

Hop, Snickers Bar and Sex


stimuli shiver / dog drivel   

add zero / ad infintium

[Jones Street]

shopping cart basecamp
street soldiers trooping pavement

not able to get back to Detroit Rock City

tricks are better in a john's house
hotel rooms loom with bad moons

outfit
bottlecap
blacktop

= the impenetrable stare

moaning rugburns marvel

 

Italian Ice and Wiffle Ball
 

pink tofu
the glamour of sin

The Big Apple's
intrinsic beauty

seeds floating
around the core

bubble toes

only the king
is allowed to eat
lychee fruit

three fires inside the flesh

grass jelly laughter

do not eat
the bittermelon seeds
or they will grow
in your stomach

uptown:
playground games
low-income sweat
asphalt nostalgia

Rhinelander
and the youth of today

Rupert was a brewmaster

life's complications
are excuses, not reasons

the pigs and chickens
live happily, together

make naan
not war

batter up!
 

 

Jellyfish and Vinegar
 

lightning
breaks the bone

Puck
is on the throne

duck egg / skin anchor

ball and alcoholic chain

(submissive cucumber)

the weight of defeat

[on the perimeter of Times Square squared]

she took a Polaroid picture
and placed it on her pillowcase

next to her head in bed, whispering

a mantra
of multiplication tables

product:

prayers answered

 

Skydiving and Ruscha
 

15,000 feet

gunpowder on paper

the flat space of words
explode for $119 a jump

you can predict when the tides come in
but what they bring and take is of their own

santa creature
by the boardwalk

wharf kids stumble

the middle name, "seth," papa red fated
and all its Homeboy [1991 Random House]

nepotistic tenderloin connections

of fried chicken and laughs

and what janis joplin

left behind

between the bed and

wall/

 

Victoria's Secret and Compact Disc


Stan Lee's gods and monsters

a Marvel myth
for drugstore comic book kids
on corduroy knees

the Incredible Hulk in purple shorts

[Mr. Bubble Bath]

on the Other bridge ­ Golden Gate

West Coast style / wacky watermelon

Ginsberg, what is it you got against the
Sir Francis Drake Hotel?

Moloch!

egg rolls and ghost sauce

sticky rice w/ milk and mango

yum like Om
Om like yum

and the glue of their stubbornness held them together

 

 

© All poems copyright Jonathan Hayes 2004 and are reproduced with kind permission.

Please email me if you want to contact the author.