Nature's Manual Poem by Jasen Sousa (For My Aunt)

Nature's Manual

 

 

An empty pair of slippers rests

next to the leg of an empty chair.  A newly

started book, spine arched at a curious

angle by the window.  Steam from near-by simmering coffee

dissipates as shadows nap underneath bridges waiting

to dance with sunrise. 

 

Blinking traffic lights sway in shallow puddles

without anyone else on the road to interfere.  A long

winter, almost over, camping mounds of stubborn snow

still not fully melted.  Slopping branches of leafless

sycamore trees tap your shoulders,

eager for a reunion. 

 

Cafes in the local square have shut down

for the evening, unaware of what you had left to spend.  You gaze

through a toy store window, drawn to trains

that never stop traveling, drawn

to a smirking clown who makes you forget

you ever aged at all.

 

It is getting late and you hear your parents

calling you home.  They have neatly tucked in

your chair, put away your slippers, and left a dim light

on in your room, just bright enough for you to see

what is necessary when you arrive.

 

 

 

And when you awake in spring

you will be welcomed by wondering skies

painted auburn by hands no longer restricted

by the wires and cords that life confuses us with. 


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Draft of, It’s Later than Early, from a future project tentatively titled, “Dampness”

It’s Later than Early By Jasen Sousa

It’s Later than Early

 

The thought was trapped

inside a Boston tunnel

stuck behind guilt and red break lights,

surrounded by yellow

hues which couldn't even inspire

small insects to walk freely

on unbalanced land

that was fraudulently built.

 

It was still like a puddle

resting on a dawn city street,

like a half-smoked

cigarette that leaked smoke

long after a flick

from his calloused fingers.

 

His paycheck ended up

inside the palms of charismatic

bartenders and agile women

who shook as much as the dreams

he could no longer conjure up.

 

When the future is nothing

but a weekend, and reality is nothing

but the time you get home from work.

 

Inside an empty apartment,

inside an empty fridge

where eyelids are unbalanced

and dusty as the blinds

that kept him hidden

more than the stained uniform

that bared cursive letters

arranged in way that no longer spelled his name.

 

It was quiet like the vision

that never propelled him to move forward,

like the vocal cords

which never allowed him

to formulate great words into meaningful sentences

 

It's later than early

and his hands remained inside

his empty front pockets, warm, comfortable,

numb,

afraid to touch objects

coated with layers of freedom.

Draft of, Elderly Rainbows, from a future project tentatively titled, “Dampness”

Elderly Rainbows By Jasen Sousa

 

He desired to shape concepts into objects

unknown by man.  Instead, that which bubbled

inside his head transformed into dented

cans that looters wouldn't bring back

to their sacred land.

 

He wondered how to mold abstract ideas

into something concrete that would serve as foundation

for cities and paved streets. Instead they sat, untouched

by human hands like sand on winter beaches.

 

He hoped for something specific, like tales

written on wooden ship sails, memorized

by the Atlantic and Pacific.  But it's like

he never existed, slept in the same house

that became empty as the gambler's account.

 

His growth rested underneath barriers

of skin and pleasure like lawns

buried underneath frozen leaves and snow.

His desires sat like used cars with

fog on their windshields and a slight drizzle

on their frames, as brush grew along

sagging fences weighed down

by the poet's unwritten sentences.

 

He wanted to find a way to bottle rainbows

in oil-slicked puddles, before they disappeared

like eyeglass dents on the elderly man's nose,

before it was too late to notice what he swept away.

 

Draft of, Placement of Truth, from a future project tentatively titled, “Dampness”

Placement of Truth by Jasen Sousa

 

 

I placed my feet

inside a pair of sneakers without laces

as I stood on the edge

of a curb where unfamiliar faces ran

red lights and rode bicycles

with flat tires.  I searched for courage to ask

the Asian man inside the convenient store

who gingerly kneeled on a flattened box and stacked milk,

"How long before someone expires?

 

I placed my sunshine

inside an empty shoe box where it sat

on the bottom of a dusty closet floor

underneath clothes I have outgrown,

next to a box full of possessions

I could have owned:  My crush's number

on the back of a folded gas receipt and photos

of children I have yet to develop.

 

I placed my dreams

inside of a toilet that wouldn't stop running

next to a sink that dripped in sequence

with my sticky blinks.  Paint

on interior walls faded inside of a body that rejected

addiction, but was engaged

to lustful cravings.

 

I placed my air

inside an empty wallet next to invalid

library cards and bus passes from cities I knew

I would never visit again.  I folded it shut

until I wash ready to spend my time figuring out secrets

deeper than those kept by a teenage daughter

who memorized the lyrics to her father's unzipping.

 

An open window wind examined my 2-week-old beard

looking for the remnants of oil that came

off the fingertips of someone who understood.

Early Draft: Eyes Down By Jasen Sousa

Early Draft: Eyes Down By Jasen Sousa

There is a woman
wearing a burgundy dress
who waits for me at the local tavern. The napkin
under her Gin and Tonic, damp as the unpaved space
behind her knees.

Denies requests to dance
as she can’t ignore movements on swollen
bottles behind the limping bartender.

Her phone sleeps on the counter, she waits
for it to pulsate like that feeling
that started inside of a thought and moved
in-between her wrist and forearm, like the vibrations
of bass that crawls down crowded walls and creates webs
amidst freshly painted toenails.

The tip is face down under the edge of the glass, the girl is eyes down
on the curb, waiting to be picked up
and dropped off into a world she is unfamiliar with.

I place the night into my back pocket
and sit on it.

Early Draft: Deep Breaths By Jasen Sousa

Deep Breaths

I tip-toe through a vacant parking lot
accompanied by decade old gum,
oil spots, and rooftop AC's that chill
local bodegas. Before sweat
from uniform layers, before breakfast
and under the table wages.

The strap from my duffle bag digs deep
into my shoulder like the woman who
left me like a tip under
an uneaten plate.
Stubble on my face alerts me
of a day getting older.

Lack of money under my unmade
mattress reminds me of why I'm usually
the first one to arrive,
or maybe it's because my apartment
is too quiet now.

Like how sprinklers
that get turned on by dawn
echo through my hollow sheets,
or like how every item stands with a blind
stillness waiting to be picked up by a pair
of palms, I never got the pleasure
of memorizing their intricate lines.

I don't care whether my day
is long or short. By lunch, my skin resembles
a chilled glass bottle left out
in a summer kitchen without being sipped.
I don't look at the clock, just wait for a co-worker
to remind it's time to leave.

I tip-toe through a condensed parking lot
with mental dents and a bulging pocket for rent.
Oil stains and gum spots become invisible
as they are tucked in by evening.
Overworked air conditioners are turned off, leaning against
a bus stop, dreaming. That’s just
the sound of me breathing.

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Book Description
Publication Date:July 10, 2012
Fancy Girl by Jasen Sousa is a novel in poems which tells the coming of age story of Deanna Keight, a teenage single mom who is struggling to raise her daughter Madelyn inside of the Mystic Housing Developments in Somerville, Massachusetts. Deanna is a brash, but capable teen who is stuck at a point in her life where she doesn't know how to escape the world she has found herself living inside of. Deanna is a female Ponyboy, and Fancy Girl is a modern day version of The Outsiders, and is written in the same successful style as Jacqueline Woodson's Locomotion, and Patricia McCormick's Sold.

One day, Deanna is approached in the park by Alissa, a new breed of independent prostitute who offers to teach Deanna the tricks of the trade so she can save up enough money to move out of the projects. Without many options available, Deanna accepts Alissa's offer. Deanna is even more desperate to disappear from Somerville as she has recently found out that the father of her child, Machinegun Mike, who is doing time in jail, will be getting out earlier then expected. Machinegun Mike becomes enraged with jealously after learning that Deanna has been selling herself, and plans to come home and reunite with Deanna and Maddy so that they can be a family.

At night, Deanna leaves Maddy in the care of her elementary school crush, Johnny J, the only guy in her life that she trusts. Johnny J goes along with this plan at first as he sees it as a logical way for Deanna to save money, but over time, his feelings for Deanna grow, and he becomes disgusted with the idea of sitting at home while strangers feel up every inch of her body. Johnny J confronts Deanna's way of life, Machinegun Mike, and will let nothing get in his way of freeing Deanna and Maddy.

Fancy Girl is the story of a young teenage mother living in an unforgiving environment, and her journey to do whatever she has to in order to secure a new, and better life for herself, and her daughter. Deanna realizes that fast money is not the way of creating a better life for her family. Deanna is a courageous young girl who has to teach herself about the harsh realities of her projects. Deanna realizes this doesn't have to be her life. That she doesn't have to sell her body for money, and that just because generations of her family lived in poverty, doesn't mean that she does. She realizes she can leave, even if it means leaving with less than what she originally had. This book is important for all teens in general, but especially for young people in the inner city who will be able to look up to a young single mother as a new hero of young adult literature.



http://www.amazon.com/Fancy-Girl-ebook/dp/B008K9KXBY/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1342094699&sr=8-2&keywords=jasen+sousa