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Jason Crane Posts

POEM: Swedish fish

Published 1 June 2023 by Jason Crane

Swedish fish

I bought Swedish fish at Wegmans.
Do people still call them that?
The little gummy fish.
Mine are red but they come in other colors.
When I was a kid, my dad would take me
to a little mom-and-pop candy shop.
We’d buy a bag of fish, then go home
to watch the Saturday afternoon monster movie.
Sometimes it would be a classic:
Dracula, The Wolfman, Frankenstein.
More often it was giant irradiated bugs
or a disembodied hand or aliens
who looked goofy even in the 70s.
If I’m honest, I bought the fish tonight
because I miss having parents, but
Swedish fish are no replacement
for a mom and dad.

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31 May 2023
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: (—)

Published 31 May 2023 by Jason Crane

(—)

I look up from my laptop in time
to see a cat peering in the window.
The sun is setting behind it.

A two-headed, three-armed bear
lies beside my stuffed mouse namesake.
Signs of care from far away.

On the radio, the Red Sox play the Reds,
who are, sadly, not communists.
They’re from Cincinnati.

(I had to look up “Cincinnati”
to make sure I put enough n’s in it.
There are three, but I wasn’t sure.)

I drove from Pennsylvania to Maryland
to West Virginia to Virginia.
The rain increased with each state line.

It’s been years since I last felt safe.
It’s been a lifetime since I knew what I was doing.
It’s been minutes since I last thought about—

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30 May 2023
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: Jupiter

Published 22 May 2023 by Jason Crane

Jupiter

Loneliness weighs so much.
It’s heavier than I thought a thing could be.
The weight is occasionally taken up by
voices on the other end of the phone,
by faces on a computer screen.
But when the connection ends,
gravity regains its mastery
and even breathing becomes a challenge.
I am staggered by the distances between hugs
and embarrassed by how little I’ve recovered.
I keep saying I’ll get more involved but that
requires leaving the house and that requires
getting up and the air is made of lead.
How can the loss of one person
transport me across the solar system?
How has it sent me here where
my mass is doubled and everything else
is reduced to zero?

/ / /

21 May 2023
Charlottesville VA

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Meet Gulliver

Published 20 May 2023 by Jason Crane

Meet Gulliver. (UPDATE BELOW) I’ve said for many years that it’s not good for someone to be the only living thing in their home, whether that means having a partner or a pet or a plant. Gulliver is a wandering dude, aka silver inch plant, aka tradescantia zebrina. He was mailed to me all the way from Texas by my friend Amber, who cut him from her own plant. After many weeks and one additional trim, he’s tiny but he has roots. His dad plant has been around since 2004, so he’s got good genes. What you’re seeing in this photo isn’t the tip of the iceberg — it’s the whole iceberg. He’s got about a 1/2″ of stalk and some little root filaments in the pot, which I put him in yesterday. I named him Gulliver because of the wandering connotation, and because he’s tiny now but will hopefully get big, and there are many size and perspective shifts in Gulliver’s Travels, which is one of my favorite books. Send him — and his caretaker — good vibes, because I definitely don’t know what I’m doing.

(UPDATE: I took a photo of Gulliver in the Picture This app and it turns out he’s not a wandering dude [tradescantia zebrina] but instead a purple heart [tradescantia pallida]. But I’m keeping the name.)

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poem: (untitled)

Published 19 May 2023 by Jason Crane

the trumpet player
leans in and whispers
into my ear
a poem about death

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18 May 2023
Charlottesville VA

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haiku: 10 May 2023

Published 11 May 2023 by Jason Crane

I wrapped myself
in a tent made of sky
floating in the half-light

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10 May 2023
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: Coping

Published 9 May 2023 by Jason Crane

Coping

The unfortunate part
of all this is that
I’d trade it
without hesitation
for you.

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9 May 2023
Charlottesville VA

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haiku: 29 April 2023

Published 29 April 2023 by Jason Crane

striped tail!
at the window: whiskers
traveling cat after spring rains

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29 April 2023
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: Please Wait

Published 27 April 2023 by Jason Crane

Please Wait

The box fan blows the last
of the salmon & oil smoke
out the front window.

The rice is still warming
in the cooker, sending up wisps
of steam like a papal signal.

The dishes are Tetrised onto
a plastic camp table
covered in blue-checked cloth.

In the living room that is
also the kitchen, a man hunches
over the keyboard.

Two robins play tag
on the front lawn; a single
bluebird alights on its box.

Soon there will be washing-up
to do, and then the long hours
until sleep.

(After 20 minutes on hold,
the music cuts out and
the call is disconnected.)

/ / /

27 April 2023
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: A Splenetic Conundrum

Published 27 April 2023 by Jason Crane

A Splenetic Conundrum

What do the spleen do?
I don’t know, do you?
Why does one vent it, and when?
Is it when it gets hot? What then?
I think that I’ve got one, though where
it resides in this body, on a dare
I could not answer. Low down?
Is it long? Is it squat? Is it round?
I think you can have it removed,
I’m fairly sure that’s been proved.
What do the no-spleen folks do?
I have no idea, do you?

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26 April 2023
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: Snake Oil

Published 26 April 2023 by Jason Crane

Snake Oil

if you just
no but really, just
see, like that person is
all you have to do is to
those beautiful vistas
it’s about the
if you had
if you just

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25 April 2023
Charlottesville VA

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