Jared Pearce, 1/20/2020

Current Occupation: English Professor

Former Occupation: Furniture Delivery

Contact Information: Jared Pearce's collection, The Annotated Murder of One (2018) is available from Aubade. Some of his poems have recently been or will soon be shared in Xavier Review, Panoplyzine, Cacti Fur, Fleas on the Dog, and BlazeVOX. Further: https://jaredpearcepoetry.weebly.com.



Don’t let me down



A new vision, it’s true,

can be climbed to at

the ladder’s top,


but it also shows what

everyone knows: if

you fall, you die.



The rungs trembled

and bucked as I went up,

the rails dipped


and rose though 

the locks bit in: 

unafraid, it’s nice


to return again to 

the paint-splattered 

earth, like it wants me.



I locked the extenders

after putting the ladder

under the roof’s peak,


atop the first-level roof.

I climbed above the sheer

drop to my right, clung


with my left to the burning

asphalt, and froze.

Dad’s voice seemed


to still to me: Don’t worry,

boy, do the job. There

was a breeze; I lunged


with my brush to cover

as much as I could reach,

determined after Dad’s breach.






The glories of the pixel gridiron,

the ulnar collateral pop and ping,

the deft glance, the precision

crosshairs, we must have you

save our university.


Our data spreads mean a little bread

yeasts our way if they come play.


The recalibrated bandwidth

opened like angioplasty, pro dreams

swamping us like swollen revenue

streams, pressures beating as we

watch the teams on screen.


We want them to spend

their money here, rather than elsewhere.



Prairie Restoration


The ice was supposed to

help, but it slipped below

us and let the seeds, sprayed

from the broadcaster, slide.


We didn’t see much

sign of deer or bird, and lay

our hopes in the graying

world, waiting for another storm


to blanket down and warm

life into growth. A farmer

came by to say he’d never seen frost

seeding, and took a picture.


We trudged the hill to prep tomorrow,

stash our gear and tuck

the sacks for the north acre. We can see,

in our minds, how it could be.



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