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Jazzy Smith


I believed Death
   when I met it at the border.      So sexy.        It spoke an old fury under me. You need
   to crash it slicked its mouth. My goose pimples rose as crops. Wander into the keyhole of
   yourself. Wear your skull cap outside. My crust begged my mind to stop but my flesh red
   tremored for pollution.

Vegas escalator

                        You wear a Hawaiian shirt.
                        You hold my hand.
                        We go up an escalator.

                        You are pie.
                        Crouching close to you
                        is whipped cream.

                        The sun flashes jealous
                        in orange.

                        The sun incinerates
                        the possibility of eating
                        pie with whipped cream.

We slow

slipping through each
other. We
illuminate nothing.

                        slipping, slippingslippingsli
                        pping,Slipping, slippingslippin

The sun can't understand.

I'm on top? you're on top. I'm on
top. you'reontop. I'mon top? You're
on top? I'm ontop? You're on

You are blurry gray.
Your teeth is indicator.
Your teeth as elevator,

                        passing below my eyes

                              above my eyes

                        We keep sweets
                        in corners
                        of our mouths
                        for when we
                        teeth each other.

                        The sun blinds us
                        from us fully forming,
                        from us fully,
                        from us.

                        You turn back to me
                        but not all the way.
                        A loose grip.

Rihanna - Needed Me

                                                   His  palm  was  bigger  than  his  face
                                                   and   he  held  it  out to me  as a stage.
                                                   The  desert   wrinkles  stretched   into
                                                   cancelled inlets.  Immense thirsty,  all
                                                   white     and     brown,      disparaging
                                                   cracked and flat.  I said Gross Jeremy
                                                   !  Get  your  hand away  from me  you
   He   disintegrates    into   more
                                                   objects,  more  objects.  His tears,  his
                                                   pout.     Verbs    and    preposition    al
                                                   phrases   for   objects:   splashing  into
                                                   cracks,  swirling through  dead valleys
                                                   of    his    palm.    Young     waterways
                                                   pissing  glee  through  his  hand.  See?
                                                   There  you  go  you  big  cry baby.
                                                   drops  another  big  fat  tear.   All   you
                                                   needed was your own bullshit.

fire for fire

                                                      Vibrating strangers as myself
                                                      while I drive
                                                      It's a rest stop, Goldie.

                                                      Her face turns away,
                                                      into glass.
                                                                   Anything for a break.
                                                      Her disdain clamps
                                                      as reflex.

                                                      She sharpened into me.
                                                      Uncurled me into a boy
                                                      naked at the   bottom
                                                      of  a lake.

                                                      I thought I was
                                                      being lifted.

                                                      My   siamese   questions
                                                      jitter  harder in the road:
                                                                   Am I ripening?
                                                                   Am I rotting?

                                                      We run them over again and

                                                      thud thud. thud thud.
                                                      thud thud. thud thud.

                                                      I'm singing
                                                      into empty space.

                                                      I'm   swinging   in the valley
                                                      of the   crater.

                                                      Her face     turned into

                                                      I wish we were
                                                      a family
                                                      even     of ash.

                                                      I've been behind
                                                      all the doors.

                                                      There's no
                                                      planet     , no lovers.

                                                      Bumblebees buzz
                                                      near the toilet.

Jazzy is an adjective. Blown from the Las Vegas desert to the West Coast, to Chicago, Jazzy writes and films. More importantly she's interested in who you are when you're alone, and has recently described what she does as "tickling devastation." Currently she works as an assistant producer for an upcoming documentary series.