Jacob Kahn


As I Lay Here Drying


Constant dream
in constant cool chamber
I,
   mother to an angel
same desires same attachments

as a carton of eggs is atop 
the greens and milks

as smashed garlic is
not materially changing 
between thoughts but
changed by them

what sites 
continue to be crawled?
aren’t  
meal kits just
renting someone else’s fridge
for a minute? 

Arvo wants 
air in the spare 
names and prepositions 
as I lay here drying 
my blue hat turning
green, like an ice cap
in the sea everything

on this page belongs
to the taxpayers of 
Berkeley, California


TEDxVineland



Another one of those
meat ads, calculating
as a Rembrandt. Taking

Airbus Beluga. 
Curriculum sales. 
Math on film.

What does the 
white tree say 
about us fleet 

debtors of the 
wood? Proximity
and interruption,

a principal tension. 
“A poem is anything 
you write with words,”

I say on a mic
to a crowd. And this 
is my company’s 

great intervention. 
The prescience of this
science has been making 

us money for years.


Jacob Kahn is a poet, editor, and curator living on the territory of Huichin, within the homeland of the Chochenyo-speaking Ohlone people. He is the author, most recently, of Mine Eclogue (Roof Books, 2022) and cofounder, along with Sophia Dahlin, of Eyelet Press. He works as a librarian at Berkeley Public Library.