junkmail oracle

spring
i s s u e

2002

poems

 

jnana
born in dayton, ohio, and a graduate of indiana university, jnana's writing has grown out of spiritual exploration, often seeking the unique cadence of each place he's lived, and delving headlong into confrontations and paradoxes that entangle present-day romance, sexual attraction and intimacy. his novel, subway hitchhikers, was published in 1990. his work has appeared in arsenic lobster, concrete wolf, curbside review, northern new england review, runes, and way station magazine.

Works on this page:
any trickery and deception
coat, tunic, bracelet
blue rock xxix
beauty isn't everything
back to work

 

Any trickery and deception

In a bayside marketplace
she shreds one more tract
left under my wiper.
Like a high-speed blur
on the windshield, one
memory chases another
unremitting panacea
on credit as if questing
the consummate head.
Two netherworld figures
demand at least a light
coaxing out of anesthesia,
a supper of unsullied
resemblance, both
born the same year.
Sometimes, comparative
anatomy is the only way
to determine what's human.

 

Coat, tunic, bracelet

her garret on the half shell acquires
the downy restfulness of lavender
a second modestly obscures
sensitive parabola with creamy elbows
with filaments the color of ripe acorn
insecurities stack up next to fashion mags
in her boudoir you can bet your boots
or this peristyle where I compensate
years later for youthful rebellion
how healing is a crusade every cure
will differ. On the nocturnal telephone,
she surmises advantages casting me
as the bad boy she must punish
(too often) what we have called innocence
is defiant ignorance that dares natural
outcomes before intentions dock awry

 

Blue rock xxix

A Hero has been submerged in that nether
world. A Sorceress demands a cigarette - at
least a light. A Hero appears quite out of
character or place. A Sorceress keeps coming
back at her victim, sometimes just for a new
address or telephone number, as if there's
some power in just knowing where you live.
A Hero has been buried alive or even denied.
What else can he do but go away? A Sorceress
is never faithful to anyone. Just "Beep," checking
up to see only if you are around or might be
with someone else. A Hero will obtain good mileage,
contrary any wrenching I feel in my heart.

 

Beauty isn't everything

camisole, throbbing black lace bra
reevaluate, flowering talent
to record extremes. Earrings
who always makes you laugh
rebuffing any insinuation of divorce,
I harvested string beans in barn manure
apparitions - an old boyfriend overrun
a silent wood. tomorrow. a feeling of control
you, too, my mavourneen, can be touchy,
please, don't burn bridges behind a skin-
care hero's respectable mileage. Only
a cordless-drill sorceress would claim
the sole requirement to play Carnegie
Hall is owning a gold medal when your
scent led me up an old church steeple
you found yourself needing money a paragon
concedes an articulate calling proves true
when put to the test, try harder, walk away
you cannot change how you feel about bearing
a necklace of children, can you ever
filter small fish and plankton from water

 

Back to work

a moth vapor of arc lamps
reveals red cesspools
lingering on barrel lids
gravel rolled up in wax paper
glistens anyway
go on, then, ride the hammering click
of your low-carbon
cold-roll zig-zag grinder
punch in, please
from shoe box confusion of daytime baseball
you hear begging
when carp are dumped by the truck load

 

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