Three poems by Jason Baldinger

the eyes of the world
(for billy wilder’s sunset boulevard)

skip tracers
repo men
and the corpses
at the morgue
sing the tune
st louis blues

hey betty schaffer
you ought been told
william holden is a coward
he’s sidewaysswimming
slippery fuckin’ eel

the eyes of the whole world
knew gloriaswanson
they memorized her matinees
lost everything but her eyes

a microphone drop
shatters depression glass
she never left 1932
a ghostfinds voice
a facesalomecan never forget

three shots
the body slips
staggers into the pool
water turns to blood

shedoesn’t know it
this moment
is the perfect precipice
the moment before
how much was lost

the last second
before crescendo
before lights
everything still
the eyes of the whole world


when hope is on life support

there was planet
on the playground
big and small holes
children pop through
a game of wack-a-mole
the ever-present smell of piss

that planet is gone
no more pisspants
no more brutalist concrete
seventies playgrounds

now people get married here
I’ve been to a couple
mostly because I always know
the exact right time
to play purple rain

tonight, punk rock babies
are taking pictures
of their miata
in the shadow of observatories

a 79 bonneville hangs a left
beeping horns for familiar
faces, time goes out
of focus, it’s 83 perhaps
waiting on my father’s tan
plymouth fury to turn
around the cul de sac
then wheeze into park

that car was a beast
abandoned to three flat tires
forgotten after my father’s death

my mother finally sold
the fury in 86, for a benjamin
seed pods falling into snow
as the tow truck took it away

it was a cold day
off from school
I shoveled snow
drank hot cocoa

the same kind
of mid-eighties winter
day in the rust belt
when hope is on life support
and rockets fall out of the sky



working poor pretend

I didn’t have anything
smaller, so I put a twenty
in the dollar changer
at the laundromat

it rained quarters
nearly a full minute
I was rich during that time
all that silver drained out
over a slot machine eternity

this is working poor pretend

One Response to “Three poems by Jason Baldinger”

  1. priscampbell Says:

    Love these!

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