Jason Reuven Kropsky

Jason Reuven Kropsky recently migrated from the south coast of Oregon to Rain City, Seattle. In addition to enjoying the rhythm of rudimentary ink block drawings, he’s editing a collection of poems entitled Heimische Street. He misses the east coast and has the utmost respect for Dr. Fauci's pronouncements.

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Jimi Hendrix Electric Ladyland
The Ghost of Jimi Hendrix in Electric Ladyland

Near the House of Pot, sandwiched between an electric power station and a direct path to the local airport, the neighborhood I live in is a mix of working-class Asian immigrants, mostly Cambodian and Vietnamese, and long-time African American denizens. The only prophet to ever come out of this northwestern hub, Jimi Hendrix, shuffled through these parts as a latchkey kid.

Star Rockets in Flight, Afternoon Delight

Is it possible to be delighted, almost mesmerized, by a red carton containing scoops and scoops of my favorite chocolate peanut butter dessert, Oregon’s very own Umpqua ice cream, and not feel as though the burden of guilt—maybe the most wasted emotion of all—has flipped into hyper gear?

Before We Meet Again Along the Rue St. Catherine

If only this solitary window pane could keep me company.
While we play cantor’s tracks over metronome rails.
From Hudson to the Laurentians.
Let us read tehilim

Notes From the Nude Beach

I am a transactional man.
I barter a business suit for the slight tickle between the rooster’s legs.

Haskalah Fantasy: Part 1

I am in the barnyard hiding from imperial mustaches and pig skinned helmets.
The macher-ocracy, drunk off slivovitz,
Smells white pale air.