about the author
Jon Sands has been a full-time teaching & performing artist since 2007. He’s a recipient of the 2009 New York City-LouderARTS fellowship grant, and his poems have appeared in decomP, Suss, The Literary Bohemian, Spindle
Magazine, The November 3rd Club, and others. Jon is currently the Director of Poetry and Arts Education Programming at the Positive Health Project, a syringe exchange center located in Midtown Manhattan, as well as a Youth Mentor with Urban Word-NYC, and has represented New York City multiple times at the National Poetry Slam.
He is also one-fourth of electricity-fest, The SpillJoy Ensemble. Jon lives in New York City, where he makes better tuna salad than anyone you know.
∧
font size
∨
EMPTY
Jon Sands
after Adrian Piper
Someone just put their Diet Coke on me. Actually they
put it on my absence. I am made of a tunnel. I am made
of a window. Today, Mr. Poet, you are made of a
turquoise sweatshirt. Today, you are made of a headache
because last night you were made of three tequila shots.
Today, I’m made of a Diet Coke bottle. I call it my little
nutrasweetheart. I’m made of brick in here. Sometimes
Mr. Turquoise Poet, I wish your outsides were made of
nothingness so I could see more clearly what you’ve
named your bricks. One is the blue your nephew keeps
in his new eyes. One, the curl your body becomes around
your second pillow on the mornings you no longer enjoy
being single. One, the night your best friends spoke the
language of karaoke and back-flipped laughter into the
walls of each bar in Ft. Greene. My promise to you is to
never stop naming. Move me outside, I’ll name my
skyscrapers. Point me skyward, I’ll name my planets.
Point me at yourself. Please, point me at yourself.