HeyJaredOlly Von
I have loved writing since 2nd grade. My poems are about a lot of things. Self/grief/love/religion/politics some heaviness,some light. I just want to find a place for my voice and some kindred spirits.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 16
- Latest publication
- Sep 30, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Aug 10, 2026
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Heartbeat (opens the original)
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I spend most of the day listeningto heartbeats.When my work is donestill I search for the sound-In the soft collapse of the bellyThey do sound different, some fastersome baritone or altobut all part of the same chorus across genderacross speciesand yearssteadyrhythmicI watched a girl explain how she built an instrument that played lightThe cords and sensors splayed across the carpet she stoodthrowing open the blinds overover againWhat a beautiful mind.her makeshift mu
Dee (opens the original)
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it started w/ the scale Dee swears she keeps losing weight; it musthave to do with the loss of her cake pan.She dreamed it was back on her counter, a heavy bottom oneyou bring to potlucks ya know.Well it’s just at the neighbors down the street but they’ve neverwalked it over.She lives right on the corner.I like to watch the comings & goings ya know; I have thisbig metal chair I dragged off the porch sinceI can’t get up those stairs with my walker &someone took my chair.They collect metal.they to
Root (opens the original)
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stop and gosix color changes in one stretch of roadI go abrupt enough -to feel it in my abdomenthe muscles tensewind hits only my foreheadfar off the headlights become beaconsblurry I can’t see the future.Cheyla asks what superpower I would choose and I pick teleportationshe says it’s the most commonly pickedthat we all would choose to be anywhere but hereI want to see the worldbut I’m afraidmy sight is the first thing that starts goingall I can see are your worried eyesthe white of y
six graves (opens the original)
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Six graves not quite deep enoughLine the sidewalkthree men in the grass share a hot plate, aluminum foil glinting off the topthey glance as I passthe fourth is still digginghis shovel rising once twiceout from the depths with new dirtI see only his hard hathe’s standing inside digging the groundright out from beneath himselfIn the August sunshinehe never looks upI walk onI walk on and on and onPast the sunflowers vying for attention and the dirt vying for shade and I vying fora deeper understand
stoned (opens the original)
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I can think only of the throbbing, working its way down my jawTo the soft of my neckWhere I reach for my pulse.Inside the cavern of my mouth the swelling has overtaken the left molarsIt feels hard and stiffMy eyes want to closeAll this medication is reminding me of a different meOne who hurt so much she welcomed whatever she could, for reliefThe meds on an empty stomach burn familiarI like that feelingDelirious with pain you feel a little out of control, I like that.An excuse to roll around lazy
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