HeyJaredPoems for Liberation
Updrafts - Seeking the Lift Bands of Humor & Meaning. Poetry. Social & Cultural Musings.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 12
- Latest publication
- Sep 29, 2026
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- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Aug 2, 2026
Latest issues
Just let it go (opens the original)
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I tell others all the time to let it goMostly because life is like an unremitting rope burnAnd my hands are tiredMemories of when I nearly diedNearly excite the rocking chairThat exposed canyon stone, wobblingBeneath my ankleThe skidding dirt bike halted one footFrom the cliff edgeThe dumb antics involving trainsThat I won’t mention hereIt’s too bad the jabbering schizophrenicsDon’t listen to themselvesThe way I’ll ignore<a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" hr
Postcards from the Gangplank (opens the original)
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O man, man O man,As you trust not your neighborhood groundYou are already lostWhose embrace will cradle youAs you chill slowly, bleeding outAlienated, this dirt unknowing your name, Uncaring of your story. How graveMan o man your estrangementBled out to shiny things. Absorption takes time and Feeling tendrilsYou did not allot yourself…May there be some novitiate In far off land hearkening back Your whispered mention. <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/1b3VDOKsOZLRBkp6JhkBmP?si=np-2Kp-
Up & Out (opens the original)
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If you need meMy lungs will be far afieldWhile my yearning holds its breathOn your shoulder and your neckLike a gecko. If you look for meRemember when we first held each otherOur pineal glands lipping and smackingTowards each other from across continents Teenagers, such surging reverenceHalting my breath coldThe memory now so confabulated after endless replays I’m not sure whose throat bore itself openly in perfect trustHere, take my bones and stir Whatever needs stirring My spine to
Metallic Taste (opens the original)
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How a scream upward cuts below my jawlineFists called out reflexively As all caresses now reduce to poker handsIt matters that we no longerMatterStorage rooms holding more rights Than the mayor’s daughter standing at the community wellWell. Tears may fall in a blade’s revengeCheer it on? it’s hydration of sortsIt’s what you settle forA few seconds of cool marbleIn the blurry heated abyss of nightWhat’s bargained for bloodWhat’s stolen from fatigueThe ash of your boyMelted into that scream up
Reclamation (opens the original)
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As winged desires rustBetween this, the pneumatics of desolation And desiccation of well water Count the butterflies And jugs of petrol New lessons for kindergartners Curricula cycled back to story(Since the book burnings We lost our spines)Boldly kids decide our new currency:Guitar picksLike salmon some eldersSwim back upstream - eastBeginning the long haul workParting out the dioceses (Pews to desks)For reclamationLaw had its run, nowIts toll-keepers aslumber Old wolv
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