Cathexis Northwest Press

© 2018 

DOWNY WOODPECKER IN MISSISSIPPI; DELOREAN STATE PRISON; From THE WABAN Series  
DOWNY WOODPECKER IN MISSISSIPPI 

The dialogues: (n.) a common misconception that we are made of thoughts, regulated by ideas, but in fact exist in the world outside, flesh, bone, past

 

The Law: Next spring I am every dead thing

Glass, conceits, hot in the frozen tundra, a tincture like heraldry 

 

Poetics: give me quiet like multiple frames or mirrors,

Next season brilliant-edged, sound like music, buried out in the Lincoln County, I am Lamar Smith.

 

The Law: what should change is the want to escape, clear-edged, imperfect, capitalism, materialism.

A volley between the tundra swans, the clicking of bitter sweet gum tree by the woodpecker’s beak.

 

Poetics: come down from the tree, détente of this world and the next, M is for Mississippi and Murder.

The croak in the composed fields are three white men’s boots hauling guilt home like music as certain as night. 

 

The Law: what comes undone is the flying buttress of heaven against the stars,

Stormer is a color of the soul, carried around by a pallet holding up the specter of guilt long after

the assailants went to rest.

DELOREAN STATE PRISON 

 

All things pop

A few hundred feet from his resurrection, 

DeLorean rolls up to the prison

inmate No. 5400 has no harbor of 

absolution but a time for execution to push back to a future untold - 

 

Do, at midnight, 1.21 gigawatts

Ride out

no savior to ream 

erased mysteriously 

from the State Penalty Review Commission final decision.

                                           The execution was at 2000 volts

                                           Carolina planned to give 2,000 volts

                                                            John Louis Evans in 1982 was shocked for 30 seconds before the electrode broke

                                                            His mouth was smoking.

 

                                                            A brief history of executions: the Guillotine, the Chair, Noose.

 

                                                                          1999, Allen Lee “Tiny” Davis, 300 pounds,

                                                                          Blood poured out of his mouth during the Florida execution 

                                                                          Four guards strapped him to the chair. 

 

Back to the future: He sits in the tent 

In purgatory thinking on his sins, what 

Little knowledge of doc’s bullet proof vest

the final Sunday flying out choppy waters

of the sky in a Delorean.

 

How in Carolina, Thinks of daddy and examines 

spring peepers, and nabs a worm for feeder,

return to the future – before he turned to a life of crime

 

kiss mama, say you’re sorry to miss it

 

                              all the things pop, 

you’ll utter on the hover craft board

never did say

no record of it, no Country, nor history can name it: break out.

From THE WABAN Series

 

The Waban: constructed in 1852 outside San Quentin, the Waban was a 19th century prison ship that held roughly

68 inmates

 

The light reflecting the incarnations beneath the grey Pacific, 

Like a grisaille shadow the hull, cracked keel, the end of pioneer shows.

A Consigner: the State stood to gain much more than rolling cartographic  

Exterior, a last remaining Brown bear hulked from the shore at the figurehead slow.

 

Low and round, laboring gold-fever, men meditated on how to launch into the pastiche 

escape banditry, violence, a few waited in the refractions

resurrected images in wet puddles on cherry and chestnut planks in dank heat 

Plowed sounds of dolphins in the nautical miles, by columns of masts, held in anticipation.

 

Remodeled the ship was a mastodon to American Destiny, like a sloping mountainous rock

Vermillion flags waned in the port, the sun was a bull fire, so others could steer clear

So no shadow of themselves lied on its grave forecastle, away the innocent men from bad stock

Never lived and promised their family more than infamy, the ship downward held steer. 

Jonathan Andrew Pérez, Esq. has published poetry online and in print in Prelude, The River Heron Review, The Write Launch, Meniscus Literary Journal, Rigorous Literary Journal, The Florida Review’s Latinx publication, Panoply Magazine, the Raw Art Review, Junto Magazine, Watermelanin, Cold Mountain Review’s Justice Issue, Yes, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Mud Season Review, Meat for Tea: The Valley Review, The Esthetic Apostle, The Piltdown Review, The Tulane Review, The Tiny Journal, The Westchester Review, Metafore Magazine, Silver Needle Press, and Swimming with Elephant. He has poems forthcoming in Projector Magazine, Cape Cod Poetry Review, The Chicago Quarterly Review, The Worcester Review, Abstract: Contemporary Expressions, Pamplemousse.

 

Jonathan was selected by The Virginia Quarterly Review 2018 for a workshop with Jericho Brown and Cave Canem in 2018 and 2019 for workshops. He is a 2019 Pushcart Prize in Poetry Nominee.

 

He has a day job as a prosecutor. He has a popular Instagram-poet handle: hillicon_justice.