Jason Harris
a body witnesses a body swallow itself
my heart is an iceberg
dipping beneath the murky
waters of everything
that hurts
i should tweet that see if
the world feels the same
i text
i love you
it texts back new #
who dis
i am consumed with learning
how to die
although it isn’t death
that consumes me
but the silence
when i die
i will no longer type out
i love you
on a smudged iphone screen
will no longer ask
are you afraid too?
after the easter flood of 1913 after
the people left cities for farms after
queen anne’s lace usurped the railroads after
the inimitable earth shivered collapsed
all of mankind’s technology to the ground after
a 500-foot ship broke from its cuyahoga mooring
knocking 3rd st. bridge off its mount it is believed
that cleveland is one of the safest places to live if dying
by natural disaster is a concern
this morning rain knocked
on the window
as i watched
a video of an iceberg flipping
over in the middle of an ocean
over 102,000 people viewed it
on twitter
it is hard not to think
about the rain falling
the waters rising the blue-white
glaciers in another part of the world quietly
dipping below the surface of our machines
as the wealthiest of our nation decide dimming
the sun will help
save our planet from its inevitable
end
without thinking of my own inevitable
end
perhaps by the hands
of someone who
or
something that
could love me
is there a word for being both pained
and panicked
have we surpassed our tipping
point
as a species?
we’re all fine
the earth doesn’t want us dead
more than
we want ourselves dead
i am panicked
pent-up
with anxiety
in the dryness of my home
i read the u.n.’s landmark study
about an impending climate-crisis
early as 2040
i will be 49
by then
that is
if an officer or social-media induced
loneliness
or american nationalists
or a great flood
doesn’t kill me
first
dipping beneath the murky
waters of everything
that hurts
i should tweet that see if
the world feels the same
i text
i love you
it texts back new #
who dis
i am consumed with learning
how to die
although it isn’t death
that consumes me
but the silence
when i die
i will no longer type out
i love you
on a smudged iphone screen
will no longer ask
are you afraid too?
after the easter flood of 1913 after
the people left cities for farms after
queen anne’s lace usurped the railroads after
the inimitable earth shivered collapsed
all of mankind’s technology to the ground after
a 500-foot ship broke from its cuyahoga mooring
knocking 3rd st. bridge off its mount it is believed
that cleveland is one of the safest places to live if dying
by natural disaster is a concern
this morning rain knocked
on the window
as i watched
a video of an iceberg flipping
over in the middle of an ocean
over 102,000 people viewed it
on twitter
it is hard not to think
about the rain falling
the waters rising the blue-white
glaciers in another part of the world quietly
dipping below the surface of our machines
as the wealthiest of our nation decide dimming
the sun will help
save our planet from its inevitable
end
without thinking of my own inevitable
end
perhaps by the hands
of someone who
or
something that
could love me
is there a word for being both pained
and panicked
have we surpassed our tipping
point
as a species?
we’re all fine
the earth doesn’t want us dead
more than
we want ourselves dead
i am panicked
pent-up
with anxiety
in the dryness of my home
i read the u.n.’s landmark study
about an impending climate-crisis
early as 2040
i will be 49
by then
that is
if an officer or social-media induced
loneliness
or american nationalists
or a great flood
doesn’t kill me
first
Biography
|
Jason Harris is a poet and a NEOMFA candidate. Pronouns are he/him/his. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Winter Tangerine, TRACK//FOUR, OCCULUM, Longleaf Review, Wildness Journal, Peach Mag, Cosmonauts Avenue, The Gordon Square Review, and others. He is the Co-Editor-in-Chief of BARNHOUSE Journal, a contributor for Watermelanin Magazine, and lives in Cleveland, OH. He can be found on social media @j_harriswrites.
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