Jason E Coombs

His poetry, news, his readings and thoughts

  • One word

    As they lay in this space of sunits light on their skin knows if they will drop a deeper anchor. her running muscles rest across his thighs. the evening shadows a valleybetween her abs and obliques. his finger tips are eyes reading soft syllables. She moves.He goes blind. She asks him to describe her body…

  • February 13th

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    My February 13 is slipping from inside the stall of a food hall.I serve couples who are touristsat the night’s singles partymen’s eyes feast attractive women wonderaround a hope to engage in connecting lines like poets matching words to couple internal rhymes: their luv is trying on a glove my hain’t is painting a sorrow…

  • What if here were somewhere else

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    If my fingers were pounding an Olivetti Lettera would the jungle trek of the workdayfeel less like deforestation? If so, would the temporary paralysis above those keys be cracked once I’ve emailed another invoice? If not, could a deeper breath in this brief oasis of thought bring back the warmth lost when the sun sets…