Jonathan Andrew Pérez

Goshawk & The Junkyard

Socialism: (n.) the moment when the masses represent the predator, and the prey come to honest survivalism of the fittest



Cuba Libre: what does community mean to you

When they overthrow the Monarchy.


In the Red sand, a red tide, metals and copper divine 

A serfdom to what is already given:


The Goshawk is a well-worn clergyman

Acre over acre over the servi, cotarii, bordarii, 


Who terminates any & all privileges 

Of illegal squatters in the junkyard.


The remainder of the tenants, free serfs, quietly prayed: 

-035. Ration number, power to the People at last.


Field mouse, shrew, vole, sparrow, chickadee

Formed a Commune in honor of those who didn’t fall back to earth, un-living. 


They repented in conveyed recycled bins: 

Within Evian bottle, beer cans, sanitation canisters.


All hunting comes after dark, for some much too quickly.

The whole thing inspired a Cult of inalienable beings – 


& the Goshawk bargains its tenure suddenly, fiending 

what most can barely see, things leaning.


The most ruthless among them quantify every little creak, wisp, pungent smell

& hunt the very thing that hunted them, sentence Fear to torture and labor; 


embody rattled terrorism–you have nothing to lose but your chains

fierce, non-descript, and gaudy.


While others hide beneath deformed scrap metal, as if Noah’s Ark

to protect against predator floods, salvaged, inherited;


There is no equilibrium for the alienated district

in the diminished light, totaling.


Others live in a favor of a more equitable bargain, 

To just be beneath dismantled junk and coexist mercifully. 


While the bold leave, their very being in the remains of day - 

Serves a revolutionary counter-symbolism.

Eastern Bluebird



Chaotic shifting skies, aliens or clouds,

Or, a comic book superhero.

Blows a few planes from the bank, like folded cuts of fragile origami

metallic multitudes flung silvery-broad belly frames.



Side by side, the things caught the wind again,

Regulated the ungoverned sky, to tame,

Us. Unidentified flying objects, saucers, sorcerers, 

their jet-tails have the inference of foreign forms of texting,

Will they be as fair as we? 

Pitilessly, side-by-side, air travelers, commuters of communes we know nothing about.



It's late January, and the Bluebirds have settled in the air fields.

They air-traffic what it means to be home alone, 

they are compliance officers 

For what is allowed to crawl back in the atmosphere, & watch in synchronicity.

Others, they do their own reconnaissance missions: 


​     iv.

The UFO’s taxonomy: War, Constitutions, Jails, Institutions, micro-seconds

They sip up the Classical Arts: Picasso, Bach, Piano Concerto No. 20 by Mozart 

Us: weaklings.

But now, Dunkin Donuts is closed, the Starbucks employee 

has counted the change; it's 2 am & with felicity

the watchers outside have been scanning me like a barcode

waiting to upgrade my flight.


A thought pops in my head, secretly:



Take me, take me, 

Away on your bow a distant Orb, tossed in the green water

of your planet. I will navigate the palisades of unrecognizable skies.

Take me from the pain of climate change, racism, love, inadequacy, financial insecurity, ethnicity.

Years later I will have forgotten that I disavowed earth,

with exacting fragmentation.


Then it came to me: the towers across the bay 

in a certain light 

Look like unidentified flying desires. 


The Eastern bluebird has lapsed the bay.

We return to our nightly segmentation from our takeoff strip. 

House Sparrows at the New York Historical Society Show

Voter Literacy Tests: (n.) historical moment that bought wisdom for a price.


The past is coming buried but not fully overthrown.  

The clatter is heard. We do not need your services in the warmth of brotherly wilderness.


The five voters who failed devised a cribs note

to overthrowing the government. 


There is little record of it, this season.

Except an exhibition at the New York Historical Society Library. 


Stucco entrance, fur-lined patrons of the Upper East Side 

on long brass artifice displays. Aluminosilicate glass artifice displays.


Test: Draw a circle around the last word in this line, 

“Paris in the Spring is ______.”


by the backs of men who made minimum wage. 

1964 Louisiana: voting rights test, with nothing left to eat or drink


A cartography for those programs that begged door to door. 

The IRS, the Housing Programs, Federal Small Business Loans.


Buffalos roamed the prairie in terrible American dreams.

Runaways rejoiced in tents of feigned prosperity.


A cockroach, or beetle, scarab-backed crawled within the stained glass

depiction of those who wander in moral terror & legal dismay.


Voting Rights: a divination made to an illiterate government

A masquerade administration 


Of ignorant men who made Americans laws, but left in large polluting Fords

Gave the dirty work to those who attest to more racist tests.


Fifteen House Sparrowsbraced against the bitter cold,

Foraging among hot dogs, in distressed flocks 


They hopped stone terraces –

 to avoid the patterns in the displaced wilderness of the city–


The past is coming buried but not fully overthrown.  

The clatter is heard. We do not need your services in the warmth of brotherly wilderness.


*Passer Domesticus: L. 6.25” ws: 9.5” Old World Sparrows- species introduced usually seen in small flocks near human habitation and are the only sparrows in most urban habitats. They nest in all types of natural and man-made cavities.  Relatively large-headed and short-tailed, with stout, blunt-tipped bill and short wings. Song a monotonous series of nearly identical chirps. Call a husky fillip; a low, rattling series in excitement, and constant chatter from flocks.

Jonathan Andrew Pérez, Esq. has published poetry online and in print in Prelude, The Write Launch, Meniscus Literary Journal, Rigorous Literary Journal, The Florida Review’s Latinx publication, Panoply Magazine, the Raw Art Review, Junto Magazine, Watermelanin, Cold Mountain Review’s Justice Issue, Yes, Mud Season Review, Meat for Tea: The Valley Review, The Esthetic Apostle, The Tulane Review, The Tiny Journal, The Westchester Review,  Metafore Magazine, and Silver Needle Press.  He has poems forthcoming in The Chicago Quarterly Review, The River Heron Review, The Worcester Review, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Abstract: Contemporary Expressions, The Piltdown Review, Pamplemousse, and Swimming with Elephants.