"Needs," "Fashion," and "It Helps"

Needs

I needed new glasses
instead
I got new eyes
 
blame it on insurance and
my doting sister's
insistence
 
then I saw the sky for
what it was:
a lens to offer space an
ultimatum
 
the stakes?
the moon
 
naked beyond the telescope
craters groomed by
robotic AI
 
needs:
who needs 'em

 


 

Fashion

I paint my shoes
a new color
every time the town
burns down
 
it's no rainbow arc
coursing through the clouds
as I smoke and steam
a factory manufacturing
 
bad dreams
resulting in
reliance on 
the blood of the earth

 


 

It Helps

we live in hotels
and eat food as if fed
by fingers above
a fishbowl
 
we walk the streets
and parade along
the boulevards
freely as if 
 
we are emancipated
until the line is crossed
and the teargas
and rubber bullets
 
harken us back
to murky smudged
aquarium concentrate of deep seas
and it only helps
 
in these crowded
corroded and corrupt times
to imagine
love exists

 

 

Jay Passer

Jay Passer's poetry first appeared in Caliban magazine in 1988, alongside the work of William S. Burroughs and Wanda Coleman. He is the author of 15 collections of poetry and prose and his work has been included in several anthologies as well as print and online publications worldwide. A debut novel, Squirrel, was released in 2022. A lifelong plebeian, Passer has labored as dishwasher, barista, soda jerk, pizza cook, housepainter, courier, warehouseman, news butcher and mortician's apprentice. Originally a native of San Francisco, Passer currently resides in Los Angeles, California. His latest collection of poems, Son of Alcatraz, released in 2024 by Alien Buddha Press, is available from Amazon.

 

Edited for Unlikely by Jonathan Penton, Editor-in-Chief
Last revised on Sunday, July 18, 2021 - 22:03