Saturday, March 28, 2020


the recession virus blues

it's strange it's the same feeling
every time. whether you want
the job, whether you were ready
to quit, whether the next job
is waiting. when you hear it
again, laid off... laid off

it's that feeling of watery knees
the way the room blurs
instantly if only a second
the air busts out of lungs
desperate not to be trapped
you walk in circles, listless
an imposed value snuffed

its grimly funny, I don't identify
my life and my work together
I consider myself an artist
who works to maintain
the goal of making art
that I don't make money from

I don't identify my life with my job
but in these desperate times
it's clear we are vessels
to a system that expects two things
produce and consume

what happens when both
streams dry up?

a friend texted
the apocalypse
is only one very
long business meeting

she's right, like filing
for unemployment in the nineties
first of the morning forms
then looking at a bulletin board
of losing manufacturing jobs
write down the job numbers
to apply for while waiting
endlessly for an interview
a determination to come

every morning more birds
chorus out my bedroom window
I hear an intermittent slow century
of traffic, I have nowhere to be
sorry to say son, but right now
I am not capital and capitalism
has no use for me

--Jason Baldinger

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