Joshua Kochis
October 11, 2021
I. The Cover Letter
To Whom It May Concern:
the name is JAK, I don’t
beat around the bush
unless I’m planting flowers there –
here, I am lookin for a job
and what else is new
like ain’t we all? Trying
to find the position
of our dreams like
wayward puzzle pieces
or magnets, confused
politicians going back
and forth, you could even
say we are silver spheres
on opposite ends
of Newton’s cradle
jumping because
we are nervous and can’t
sit still – but you know
why don’t we just
cut to the chase
when I saw yr post
on LinkedIn my heart
leapt in its cage
knowing I’d make
the perfect ass
for the hole
in yr pants
a patch to call
home, the crooked stitch
holding a finger in a glove
together we will rip
this market wide open
the panoramic vision:
get rich and die
with our shoes full
of sand, having gone
the distance and
stepped in shit
a couple times
transcending this
sad and shallow
holy difficult living
existence with
immaterial salvation
you and me
II. The Resume
Let’s just say
I will work
one job for each good finger
I have, all entry level
and at the same time!
Go ahead, watch me
balance grace and time
with ease, missing
birds with stones
all over, I will work
on my aim daily
a modern David
to your giant list
of simple requirements
I may or may not meet.
I say that I am in this
for the long haul
(at least til I find
something else), have I
told you bout all
this experience beneath
my shrinking belt?
You’d better grab
a seat, my C.V. will knock
yr dry personality
and low expectations across
the room because you know
I will work for not much
work for a lot of things
like pens work for writing
like chain saws for cutting
down trees, briefly I swear
til my knees are torn
at the seams I will work
outside or downstairs
makin vistas of brick
walls with big rocks
making copies of paintings
of olives riding horses
they will sell for thousands
I’ll do it for twelve an hour
(this is a true story)
you can even put yr name on it
hell I’ll sell my face
if you take this wallet too
it has a few holes
but so much potential:
all that empty space
and folded paper getting
wispy in my hands
picking up and out
where I left off, buy land
with slant rhymes
and hollow chords
of words under water
the ocean echoes out
of sight but it’s there
and it’s breathing we
are breathing with it
can’t you see
just work with me here –
III. The Employee
It was two thirty in the afternoon,
the home stretch
of big air a thin sheet
and the trunk stood alone
like a pillar for someone dead
like a flower with no petals
and stark against the weird
blue sky it was raining
lightly and the column
of solid wood became
a wet monument shining
and the boss stood there
atop its pillar neck
sans head and webbed crown
him a tangle of strap
and harness, leaning –
the trunk looking like
an amputeed spider
on a stick like
a silent shell exploding
it became a body
with no arms or legs
the trunk was a mushroom
cloud without the cloud
it was a totem
with only one face
it was money
in the bank
and maybe I am
being too sensitive
about this maybe it’s
just a job
for someone else
to say they did
a fake painting with
his name on it: sold!
and “think of it this way,”
he says, returning to the ground
with a gentle zip and thud
“if we don’t chop her down
someone else will.”
IV. Two Weeks Notice
(in three haikus)
my ass hurts from all
this sitting I’d rather fall
down the stairs outside
in a dream my pen
became a flower writing:
that is a new sun
how bout this weather?
a loud crack and whooshing sound
this job sucks I quit