Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome
Showing posts with label Jason Braun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jason Braun. Show all posts

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Somewhere Between a Kansas Cloud and Home

by Jason Braun

The Grand Canyons and cascades,
seen from a car’s backseat window
my feet were sticking out of until
mom noticed again, they were nothing
with out perspective. Like burning
ants, or crushing bodies between
pointer finger and thumb, this is how
a world view is build at sixty miles
per hour. Then the buffets and all
of us eating to get our moneys worth.
The gift shops must have been sinister.
An unknown top down franchise,
otherwise why all the fools gold,
rock candy, and the “I survived—”
T-shirts that won’t last more
than three good washes. Even
the cameras were disposable.

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Working Five-Tens at the Plant I Heard Safety Man’s Story

by Jason Braun

Juarez bound, one night he disappeared
for a week. He emerged like a baby
might, in his underwear.  His skin
shrunken and raw in the outline
of the jailhouse doorframe. His wife
bailed him out and must have know
he spent a wallet full, before selling
first his boots, then his hat, shirt
and finally the Levi’s for something
to drink and sex. They hadn’t gave
him water yet that day and his wife
didn’t stop driving until the car
was parked in their Odessa garage.
On a hot day, I think of him and drink.

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Old Movies Taught Us

by Jason Braun


Women faint like falling
rock on a Colorado roadside.

Every heavy must tend pigeons,
mice, or an unmanly mutt.

There are not many black people
in Casablanca when Bogart’s around.

Lassie can talk, but only under
the spell of a boy’s chin bobbing in a well.

There are three ways to get a cat
off a hot tin roof.

Courage can be brand of gin,
bought behind the curtain.


Taxis are always waiting.
Nothing matters more than a snow sled.
A man with two broken hands can’t scratch.
Never trust a British accent.
Shirley Temple is cuter than should be legal.
Psychology is a new word.
Our machines will betray us someday.
Sometimes a cigarette holder isn’t.
Santa is the only hope.