John J. Trause

JOHN J. TRAUSE is the author of seven books of poetry, including The Box of Torrone (Unsolicited Press, 2026) and one of parody, Latter-Day Litany, the latter staged Off Broadway.  His translations, poetry, prose, scholarship, and visual work appear internationally in many journals and anthologies. Marymark Press has published his visual poetry and art as broadsides and sheets.

It Was the Summer of Dubai Chocolate and the Hugo Spritz (POEM)

It was the spring of Dubai chocolate and the Hugo spritz

of jumpsuit bunnies who flashed their tits in Biarritz,

the summer of Midnight Hammer, Saint Mary of the Snow

and Our Lady of the Snows and Sorrows, of sparrows,

white cross arrows and yarrow, Queen Anne’s lace,

the sorrow for Peter Yarrow and krazy karaoke,

music bingo, paint & sip,

a slip

         a dip

                     a drip

and soft torrone, Makers Day, and Maker’s Mark,

Tullamore and Cutty Sark,

old school and old fashioneds,

the harrowing of hell,

neoterrific infernos, tariffs, and torrid Tenerife,

the season of nephews and new nieces,

so nice.

Sparrow (POEM)

1

I start this poem in hendecasyllabics

in honor of our dearest bro Catullus.

2

What would Catullus make of the Hudson Valley

and its interlocking community of artists?

I invited Sparrow and my friends in the Hudson Valley

to a reading I had in Woodstock.

He did not respond or show up…

Midnight Hammer

He was passing over the border into Canada,

shoeless and suspect, a bus pass(eng)er,

detained and thought homeless and destitute,

but none of the above.

Well, shoeless and suspect, perhaps.

3

Saugerties

Passing quickly in the high heat onto Partition Street

through an alley

and in a hurry,

I was hit by a

falling

nestling

sparrow

on the shoulder.

It fell to the sidewalk near-dead.

I moved it to the shade where it died.

passer mortuus est
passer

o miselle passer!

4

When I returned home that evening,

I prepared the laundry in my basement

and found a sparrow had gotten inside

through a window whose pane of glass

slipped

down.

I tried to shoo the sparrow into the hall

upstairs

and out the front door,

but it found its way into my living space.

I feared it would

shit

on my

towers

and

ziggurats

of books.

I finally chased it out through the hall,

the front door

left open.

5

Auguring what?

6

 This poem

did not

write

itself.