HeyJaredPissing In The Press Pool
Weekly poetry and essays from a lucky heartbroke writer trying to get by in the end of times.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 11
- Latest publication
- Sep 24, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 6, 2026
Latest issues
JIM TRAINER’S POEM OF THE WEEK (opens the original)
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LALANDE’S BLUESpain’s the palingduskof quick-whiteSeptembergone the songof thetoo-wet-to-fly poorwillsomething heavyhas stopped movingloss ispreternaturalyour absence iseverywhereBECOME A PAID SUBSCRIBER FOR LIVE READINGS AND MONTHLY ESSAYS AT 𝑃𝑖𝑠
JIM TRAINER’S POEM OF THE WEEK (opens the original)
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WHY THANK GODPicked me upwith The Clean on the radioTook me toa meeting and bought me tacosGave me vapesand let me cry the whole way homeBECOME A PAID SUBSCRIBER FOR LIVE READINGS AND MONTHLY ESSAYS AT 𝑃𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼𝑛 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑃𝑟
JIM TRAINER’S POEM OF THE WEEK (opens the original)
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HEMEROCALLISIf I go softly into my appointed hourwill the gods believe me?As I step, up and then offinto a nightmare-maw of everlasting peace, will I buckle give my teeth and my armmy money and my charm,these eyes and this mouth?Will I let the suture unfastgive her my heart and look past my shoulder to see the world and the trouble roll like a pebblein tides cold, black and vast?Will my protest last,loud enough for you to hearthe final words I was hereand like comet and commelina,diode and daydr
JIM TRAINER’S POEM OF THE WEEK (opens the original)
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GO TOGETHER LIKE COFFEE AND CIGARETTESlast night the moon was blood redthe rain beat back the underbrushand I stood in the mud like a heronwishing for my prince to soarI dreamed of the captainboring me with Navy storiesuntil I was dismissed and he called out for youthis morning at City Parkthe light hit me square in the eyeI turned into traffic blindand downshiftedlest I roll back, and lodge my final complaint on working for a livingI got the load in that afternoonas another rain washed outSprin
JIM TRAINER'S POEM OF THE WEEK (opens the original)
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THE LIONI kneel to the buddha, strung in a garland of the Rose of Leo,at your graveSirius rose and fell while we were tucked awayprone and protected in sleepI rise, but you do notinto the morning its walks wet and the air cool as stoneWhat dream is stranger, that you have lived, came to a wreck of me and we walked in loveor that you’re gone,blooming in the dark and thinner than the light now?The candle of mourning brightly burnsits wick and my offeringto ash—light as the air, takenby t
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