junkmail oracle

i s s u e




john haynes
john haynes is a writer from cincinnati. his work has previously appeared in the in posse review on webdelsol, sendecki.com, nasty magazine, and a virtual memorial magazine. also work is forthcoming in the webzines lights out media, poethia, the avant garde times and in drought: a literary journal. he is currently working on several projects including his first novel, an american revolution, which is due out in the fall of 2002. he is also co-founder, along with his wife tia, of the fountain society, a non-profit organization formed to aid emerging artists.

Works on this page:
his last dispatch
mr. b.
potters field
pretty brown eyes
sunday morning


his last dispatch

Knowing him the way I do
I wonder what this reporter of life
Was thinking-what was the deadline
He was trying to beat?
Had he written one story about everything
He knew and realized his Number 12's
Were empty?
Was his hunger for breath too much
To carry on the comfort stretcher
Of his imagination?
Were the bombs still going off in his cerebrum
When he pointed those two barrels of painkillers
At it?
Does it matter whether or not it came in the
Afternoon or that it came by his
Own hand and in Idaho of all places?
One is left to wonder


mr. b

I saw his
cave production
and could
only wonder
who his sound man was
as I marched
to the patriotic
spangled mall
and bought
a new pair
of nikes
while thinking that
the koran
that he was
reading from
had to have that
warholian thing in it


potters field

naked screaming
is now
naked laughter
as I dance on
the grass
it is unmarked
and well
it should be
by worms
isn't enough
justice for you
you genital


pretty brown eyes

Plain standing
next to blue
but standing
eventually have
to sit
down and
stop staring
kentucky jim crow
don't have
a case
and don't
understand that
the caramel color
of her shoulders
in the sun
is worth dying for


sunday morning

In mercurial closets I sell
My plasma to the highest bidder
And drive away with my
Daily bagel intact
Passing all three of them-
Consolation Baptist
Deliverance Temple
Cathedral of Praise
Realizing that I'm
Somewhere in between
As the grey ladies who
Guard the corners
Flash lily gnashing teeth
At my half eaten circle of bread
And tell me to keep driving
Just keep driving



I don't know you
but I love you
I've seen you
in your underwear
and I've seen you
leaving for work
You are constantly
in my thoughts
even in the times
that we are alone
And you cry over
mysterious things
even then I love you
even though sometimes
I don't know you


stories & essays
art & photos & stuff

home page


copyright deep cleveland publishing, all rights reserved
comments: deepcleveland@hotmail.com