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Jay H Alanski




a cult is spread through the head 

tying loser to loser to loser 


vinyl encases private fetishes 

unpublished on coffee tables 


you had chances; preferring glances 

polaroid eighties; Asian models 


New York soundtracks in the provinces 

enough to make anyone cry and laugh 


voice sticking on every syllable 

turning the sublime heart-rendering-ly simple 


king of every bedroom regret

we worship what we can’t collect 


oh my departed friend 

we’ll always have the memory 


of your mylar-encased vinyl 

and CD collection


i’ll always remember you crying 

over the obscurity of Jay Alanski

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