The Baby Weighs a Ton Today.

The baby weighs a ton today.

I don’t mean literally, of course.

The heaviest person of all time,

Jon Minnoch, was 1400 pounds,

And 35 years old, not 6 months.

Still, if it would have been my job to

Pick up Jon Minnoch, console him,

Cool his feverish brow, pat his back,

Wipe away the drool, coo in his ear,

I probably would have had assistance.

Lazarus in the Nazareth Ghetto

Poetry by Jason Edwards

Random access Wichita memories:

Bethany’s songs, death of virginity,

So much fun and Aqua-Tomfoolery.

Lucifer and the cherubim, legions

Baptized by fires set on seraphim,

Make holes in the sky. They fall when I fly

Broken wings, and that succor from sirens.

Murder in the birth degree, Nephilim

Turgid words in my head, alive I’m dead

Resurrected, sacrifice common sense,

Nourished by delicious flesh turned rotten,

Word-proof lazaretto, sneak in, shadows

Write them down so they can be forgotten.

A Hint of Fall on the Wind

poetry by Jason Edwards

Stepped outside last night in a pair of summer shorts

And a shirt with a reference to something Hawaiian on it

That was a size too small in June, 300 miles ago.

I’ve had a busy summer. I’ve enjoyed the weather.

Say Seattle, and people think rain, but

Seattle hasn’t been Seattle for a while now,

Like it always is from the end of July until

September. There was a hint of fall on the wind,

A taste of red leaves and that purple the sky gets

When the days are more orange than yellow,

Night time pines bathed in TV blues from windows

Where football’s on and so are the new sit-coms.

My toes curled up inside my flip flops.

A spider’s web dismantled itself on the breeze,

Since all the spiders are coming inside now.

But we don’t have enough flies. Or time, because

Things are going to slow down for a bit, last for

A few rounds of forever before next summer comes.