12/2/2022 Poetry By Jason Baldinger Lise1011 CC
the blood of a highway song sky fills with light even as days lungs fumble for breath a symphony of robins of pee wees, of titmice and jays act as tourniquet slow the blood of a highway song nested in an unripe blueberry patch fruit late season green humidity and dew for a blanket I appear as newborn faun I appear as satyr then shift to crow before regaining shape as a man this happens when roads in the blood finally win when the delaware water gap is another broken heart when one too many sunsets throw poems into a man-made lake mosquitoes swarm in vengeance sharks in the estuary fins above the surface trumpet the dark nostalgia of 1916 a century past, nightmares under the glass of waves glimmer a traffic jam across mini-mall tundra to kiss the ocean in a moment in the mirror of motion then disappear as vapor another city, another town the summer sun a demon Jason Baldinger was recently told he looks like a cross between a lumberjack and a genie. He’s also been told he’s not from Pittsburgh but is the physical manifestation of Pittsburgh. Although unsure of either, he does love wandering the country writing poems. He’s penned fifteen books of poetry the newest of which include: The Afterlife is a Hangover (Stubborn Mule Press) and A History of Backroads Misplaced: Selected Poems 2010-2020 (Kung Fu Treachery), and This Still Life with James Benger. His work has appeared across a wide variety of print journals and online. You can hear him read his work on Bandcamp and on lps by The Gotobeds and Theremonster. Comments are closed.
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