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JONAH ORT
Knuckleduster. A book of poetry by Jonah Ort. Knuckleduster. A book of poetry by Jonah Ort. Knuckleduster.AbookofpoetrybyJonahOrt. Knuckleduster.AbookofpoetrybyJonahOrt. K nu ckle d u s t e r.Ab o o ko fp o e t ryb yJ o n ahOrt . K n u c k e ld u s t e r A .b o o k o f p o e t r y b y J o n a h O r t . K n u c k e ld u s t e r A .b o o k o f p o e t r y b y J o n a h O r t . K nu ckle d u s t e r.Ab o o ko fp o e t ryb yJ o n ahOrt . Knuckleduster.AbookofpoetrybyJonahOrt. Knuckleduster.AbookofpoetrybyJonahOrt. Knuckleduster. A book of poetry by Jonah Ort. Knuckleduster. A book of poetry by Jonah Ort.
Dedicated to my mother, father, brother. Madison Smith. Steve Roggenbuck. Donkey Coffee. Facebook and Tumblr. To all the family and friends that have shown me support: you are the reason I write. Thank you.
Table of Contents Chapter1 p5 Chapter 2 p13 Chapter 3 p21 Chapter 4 p29 Chapter 5 p37
Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1
Allcaps
Before I left my grandparents house last Sunday a Viagra commercial played and said Make sure your heart is healthy enough to have sex and thats the best advice Ive heard all week. The man in the commercial ran his muscular ngers through his well-combed, touch-of-gray, salt-and-pepper hair in the same way I pushed my hair back on the drive home. Every-so-often youd see a barn on the edge of the highway with big yellow text that read CHEW MAIL POUCH TOBACCO and for a second I considered it. At the gas station a motorcycle backred and it startled me and I told myself to man up but I have manned up enough times, I think. I slapped a kid in summer camp and made him cry and I thought of the Army Strong ad campaign and back then I knew for sure that I could kill someone if my country needed me to. In this country of direct commands and all-capital lettering there is a highway where the sun is always setting in your eyes no matter what direction you are going, where the men adjust their stiff annel collars and pat your shoulder with fatherly authority and, with cracked bottom lip full of tobacco, spit malevolently, and tell you to man up, get your dick hard, and make sure your heart is healthy enough to have sex.
Bathing Suits
We were in bathing suits in the jacuzzi-bathtub in what used to be my mothers and fathers bathroom but now its just my fathers. I had to splash water around the tub to drain the dust and rinse the residue from the bottom. You have to wait a while for the water to cover up the jacuzzi jets in order to turn them on. I ipped the switch and the tub lled up with bubbles and you got in rst and I came in after. We sat on opposite ends making sure our knees didnt touch; We didnt say much. In a short while I got overheated and sleepy and asked if you wanted to take a nap and you said Sure but Ill sleep on the couch and you can take the bed and I said Of course; thats what I wanted anyway. I didnt sleep but I dreamed about what its like to trick yourself into being in love. I didnt sleep but I heard your dreams loud and clear down the hallway and they sounded uglier than my pruned ngers.
Mostly Empty
I am in the bathroom pouring mostly-empty cans of Mountain Dew Code Red and slightly-less-empty cans of Arizona Southern Style Sweet Tea down the sink. I drink them mostly and the cans cling to my desk. I have a problem nishing them off. My friend messages me and tells me that I have shit that I need to sort out as I throw the cans into the trash.
Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2
Cerulean
We used to be kids but now we all like hummus. When you see the ies in your wineglass remember that this is the blood of christ and that is how youre choosing to get fucked up tonight and I started drinking black coffee after my grandpa died and I wonder if thats what the kid in me wouldve wanted. I am trying to write a poem about growing up but my thought process is breaking like crayons and I was always afraid to draw with cerulean because if it broke my heart would break with it. Every night my mom would sit with a wineglass in her hand and ask me what the fuck are you doing? and its taken me ve long, horric years to come up with the answer and the answer is growing up; with alcoholism inside of my ngers, ready to snap them like cerulean crayons and ready to use the broken halves until you just cant keep drawing anymore.
College Stuff
I heard you snorted adderall in college. When I see you were still 15, jumping off of swings and landing on our backs. It was worth the laughter even if my back hurt for a week. But I guess we had to grow up eventually, I mean, Im the one with the job at the factory, paying for my own meals, and when I get home my back hurts too, but it isnt quite the same.
California/ Hypochondria
Every time I take a Xanax I become acutely aware that I now have one less Xanax and its beginning to make taking a Xanax not worth it in the rst place. I miss Los Angeles and its billboards and I miss the fact that you can plant any type of tree in California and it will grow, and if our love was a tree it would be a thirty-foot Catalina Ironwood growing off an exit to the 405. Ive had a sinus infection for the past month and a half and CNN told me that if you wake up with headaches theres a chance its brain cancer and thats why I have one less Xanax and thats why I slept for 3 hours on Saturday and thats why I forgot to text you back. CNN also told me that Los Angeles is the 3rd most-polluted city in the United States of America and the wildlife and vegetation are adversely impacted but our Catalina Ironwood, standing up to 15-meters tall, will rise above the smog and the billboards, reaching deantly and wildly towards Heaven and not even Arnold Schwarzenegger can tear it down.
Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Chapter 3
Porch Lights
I went outside last night on my porch to try and have an intimate experience with nature but the giant moths that ew around the porch lights made me nervous and I went inside. My bed smells like pornography. There are 15 bottles of homeopathic sleep aids in my nightstand drawer. In 8th grade I tried to overdose on melatonin pills. In Sunday School they would ask us what the best part of our week was. Id raise my hand and talk about how melatonin pills dont do shit, and how I wanted to have a spiritual experience, I tried my very best to nd this great Earth that God gave to us but I never found it, instead I was too afraid of moths.
Three Mountains
Here are my Three Mountains: the Appalachians, The Smokies, the Sierra Nevadas. I have sprained my ankle on all of them. In the shadow of the Appalachians I had a dream you hurt yourself -- and it was true, you drew the Chinese Symbol for Three Mountains on your hand with nail clippers and the mountains trembled. In the foothills of the Smokies I found out I didnt love you anymore and I shivered in the mountains presence and the pine trees bit their lips and sighed along with me. In the valleys of the Sierra Nevada I fell in love in the morning in the light coming through the windowsill and I fell in love on the paths leading to the summits and I fell in love with a girl in zero percent humidity and I sprained my ankle but I didnt think of you.
Fertilizer
I saw them laying hay out in front of my building and roping off the muddy lawn. Late at night I caught them prying bricks from the walkways and putting new ones in their place as if nothing happened. The fountains are busy collecting rainwater and algae and disease, the water sits there and reects nothing. Last night I saw them, the kids stomped down the ropes and threw their cigarettes into the fountains and walked across the virgin hay-the word cunt is etched into the bathroom stall, I read it every day.
Acorns
They dont put up the Goodyear Blimp as much as they used to and when I realized it was just a oating advertisement I cringed when I saw it ying up Interstate 76 (I remember my car pulling to the side a bit, maybe part of it wanted to go home). When the rubber industry died it made the sound of rusty gears, a car with no oil, the Black Keys rst album. This is where the rust belt starts and it akes across the Midwest like malt-liquor-avored galaxies, brown speckles of an egg, or scattered, dead leaves.
Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Chapter 4
Companion Piece
It is only November 11th and its already fucking snowing in my Animal Crossing town and I want to catch a cold soon so I can stay in bed for a while. I applied for a job yesterday and I wont get it but I can tell my parents Im trying at least; sometimes at least is the best you can do and Im grateful that at least if I run out of money I can start eating my record collection and I can burn my thrift-store t-shirts for warmth and Im not sad enough to write good poetry this week but Im not quite happy enough not to try.
Three Comparisons
If you were a cheap gas-station cigar you would be a Wine-avored, wood-tipped Black & Mild and I would buy a 6 pack of you and I wouldnt inhale but Id enjoy you slowly, when I come home I would smell of you, if I left you out in the open my room would smell all of you, and if anyone says that Black & Milds smell bad then fuck em. If you were a middle-school lunch you would be Bosco Sticks, pepperoni-lled, cooked to perfection, Id pat the grease with a napkin and eat it along with the gross mashed potatoes and string cheese and I would drink a paper carton of gen-u-ine TruMoo chocolate milk with the crossword on that back and the rst word Id nd is your name. If you were a pair of ip-ops from Dicks Sporting Goods you would be those black-and-white Adidas ip ops with the pressure points drawn on them and you would be in the clearance aisle and you would be a steal and I would be so excited to have found you that I would buy you, put you on my feet and wear you out of the store.
Crying in a 7/11
My mother died and I didnt shit for a week straight. I went into a 7/11 looking for Mountain Dew Game Fuel but they didnt have it even though there were ads for it out front and I was prepared to buy both avors, the purple one and the red one, and I almost cried about it. My aunt said that people react to grief in different ways, you will nd yourself crying for no real reason, little things will remind you of the ones youve lost, like I cant listen to Dave Matthews Band ever again but thats okay because they suck anyway.
Layover
Nobody told me buses had layovers. Its eight hours from Atlanta to Columbus. Im spending three of those hours in a Starbucks in Cincinnati. Im sitting next to a girl I met on the bus from Macon, Georgia. She told me her hobbies are Creative writing and smoking hella weed. She was carrying a rough copy of Sun Tzus Art of War. She had a southern accent. Sitting with us is a big guy, early twenties. Full beard and a kind face. We ask him where hes headed. He says Marietta, to see his son. His name is Copper and he is three years old and he lives with his mother. The girl says shes headed to Columbus where her brother lives. Hes the only family Ive got. she says. The guy lends her a dollar-fty to buy a hot chocolate. She thanks him. As she walks off the guy gets a phone call. He answers and he looks worried and I remember him saying I dont want to argue, I just want to talk to my son. The girl comes back, cup in hand. Theres a short pause and the guys face lights up Hey buddy!, he says, How are you doing? Im excited to see you! He talks for a little while and hangs up, smiling just a bit.
Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5
In That Instant
Somewhere in Clymer, New York I almost split my leg in two and somewhere in Bath, Ohio I looked at porn on a PSP and somewhere in Marietta, Georgia I cried in a basement and the sky turned navy blue and in that instant I knew that a kid somewhere in Clymer, New York is missing the gap between the jumps in the terrain park and he is swearing that he heard a crack when he landed and in that instant he knew that somewhere in Bath, Ohio there is a kid guring out what girls look like naked and in that instant he looked toward Marietta, Georgia, rolled over, and fell asleep forever.
Catch
Somewhere in an empty drainage pipe I was told I was a bad kisser and I was told I was going too fast and I remember hearing the word shucks. It is the sound made when youre putting on a t-shirt too early in the morning and your hand catches on the ceiling fan. It is the light-headedness after your rst cigarette and it is the stomachache afterwards. It echoes through every empty drainage pipe and it catches you like dirty water on the ass of your favorite pair of jeans.
A Little Extra
I am afraid of you, Atlanta; you stole my lunch money. I have been in your veins, Atlanta, your subway system (a crackhead borrowed my phone on the red line; she had the kindest smile). Atlanta, I saw a lady get her purse stolen. The guards chased him but I dont think they caught it; when will you give it back to her, Atlanta? Atlanta, my father sits in trafc for four hours a day. Id like to think youll give him that time back eventually but you learn that Atlanta mostly takes and gives nothing in return. A homeless man with crutches hobbled over to me once and asked for $5, I obliged. As I drove away I saw him laughing, carrying his crutches under his right arm. I couldnt get angry, Atlanta; the city has taken more from him than I can imagine. The city will get its ve dollars back (and a little extra, too).
Summer of No (2011)
That summer was a summer of no. My grandmother used to be an alcoholic. Now her purse and shoes always match. No, we will not kiss ever again. No, we will not see that movie. No, you will not get satisfaction. I bought twenty-one records and dozens of Peace Teas and I listened all the way through only half of those records and I dont remember about the Peace Teas. I am deranged, laying on my carpet while a Black Sabbath record spins on the run-out groove, and I realize that this entire month has been one giant run-out groove spinning haphazardly closer and closer to resolution and satisfaction but never quite getting there, never quite getting there, never quite getting there. I am a skip on a record when you dropped and caught it with your uncut ngernails last June.
Every-So-Often
Every-so-often my neck will ache in the spot where you used to bite it and I catch myself rolling my neck on instinct; so Im sitting in class rolling my neck thinking about how good you look in camouage coats and sun-dresses and how when youre naked I can count your freckles and create constellations (one constellation is called Something About True Love and The Sound of Your Breath). So Im rolling my neck thinking of rolling around in bed with you and how your hair smells like a very very clean thrift store; (I mean that as a compliment with the utmost sincerity and compassion)