| Jason Mashak ||HAIKU|
With my slingshot
I shoot dried sheepshit
– Chevrolet windows.
Understand a woman? why not
deconstruct Detroit, a thousand fires
erect it higher in your soul.
It could be why they like crazy
keychains, driven to connect with something
made and ruined or recycled
more affected by gravity and tides
flipping cards like heavy stars'
dank earthen rust to guide
Hitler said we should all die blonde
but I support the Dionysian Party since
I prefer a candidate like Cassanova
over one like De Sade.
|21st CENTURY AMERICA|
(for Casey Bush)
I was practicing friarcraft from a neon doorway
when Jesus spoke to me
From an electric chair in Texas, chainsaw still
stapled to his hands
After putting his postal-apocalypse kiss
on a couple of skyscrapers
That cast shadows on the holiest of places,
all rights reserved.
|ART OF CONVERSATION|
First I'll tell you I don't know much
about where you're from, then
I'll tell you everything I do know
about where you're from, several things
you've likely not considered.
Already you'll be stunned. But unaware
how fluidly I ask questions that keep
me talking while you grasp for answers.
Drunkenness is your best defense,
for with it – mine or yours – I cannot steer you.
Yet I can still blow smoke slowly
into my own eyes burning and rub them
to make you think I'm vulnerable.
In the morning hung-over you'll have coffee,
try to remember what I said
and call your psychiatrist – collect.