Previous Feature: Jeff Bagato

Jeff Bagato is a multi-media artist living near Washington, DC, who produces poetry, prose, electronic music, glitch video, street art, and pop surrealism paintings. His poetry has appeared in many journals, including Empty Mirror, The Five-Two, Outlaw Poetry, and Rusty Truck. Short fiction has recently appeared in The Colored Lens and Gobbet. His published books include the poetry collections Cthulhu Limericks (lulu.com, 2011) and Savage Magic (ibid., 2016), along with the novels Computing Angels (ibid., 2015) and The Toothpick Fairy (ibid., 2015).

*

Why I Love Ouija

she broke through the board scratching
letters that suck you in deeper
with each one until forming, then
you bob up a bit like struggling
underwater—come inside—
you’re marked as a friendly sucker—
come inside—she scratches at the door—
showing time as a bastard running whitewater
rivers like the last angel
braying for the dawn;
Ouija marks the future with a theft,
laughing at the spoonbending
of the modern mind and the magnetic
security squares at the doorway
forever—you know they
strip only a dozen books in a
hundred, and your chances are better
if you read them first—
lap the armpit of luxury
and see your future in crime,
the way Ouija sees, scratching
out letters to spell temptation,
leaping far and clear and getting
out away from the crowd,
floating to certain
safety

*

Buying a King for the Price of a Twin

Buying a king for the price of a twin
easier than it used to be even
though kings got scarcer—this effect
of democratic constitution—life less
loving than it was, and everyone
could use a little payola—
the give and take in the bowels
of the budget keeps up appearances
by flim flam word con that masquerades
a flesh sale with gartantuan architecture;
meat market sing-along has all the product
humming, mouthing the words,
teaching the world to sing—
and a king’s for sale like everybody
else, sticker shock a momentary mug
for the camera, but all priced
so low to sell it brings
a skip to the step and a cell
phone in every pocket—Yes!
I want it! I love it!
I’ll take it! My time is now!
I need to keep my living, but
before I cash my stock options,
let me update the features on
my bill of sale—every desk
jockey needs a fortune when their
number’s up

*

About Our Entering a No-Sex Era

Greetings San Francisco, the historical
Jesus is not well and the future
sits naked like a bathhouse slab:
Sex isn’t a matter of morals any
more but of personal relations—
so keep yourself safe, San
Francisco, we need you; we
need your critical mass, your play-
fulness, your avant garde;
let the young boys play broken
guitars outside crystal shops
on Haight and love your
fellows not only on festival
days; we need you baby,
take care of yourself; you
left your heart in materials,
and Thoth don’t lay them on the
scales—so what have we
got? You’re a crook, an
amoral conman and Rubber
Jesus throws condoms along Castro,
smoking a Tampico and blowing
cock rings of melted fire

*

All Hail! To stay apprised of all things Jeff Bagato, simply click on his self-portrait below and visit his personal site . . .

%d bloggers like this: