Jacob R. Moses is a poet, educator, and spoken word artist from NYC. Publications featuring his work span five continents. He is the author of Grimoire (iiPublishing, 2021) WTF: Writing Through Fascism (Bainbridge Island Press, 2024) and Mutable Air (Seattle Sound Publishing). In 2024, he was nominated for a Pushcart Prize by New Generation Beat Publications for his poem, “Lottery.” In 2025, he was nominated for Best of the Net by Bainbridge Island Press for his poem, “Reflecting Clarity.”
Currently, he is an English professor at Wagner College.
Professors Moses’s book(s) are on Amazon.
or
PoetryofJacobMoses.com/09/11/grimoire-on-amazon/
Called to Return
Too many verse slingers
Have met their makers
Whether they preach justice
Whether they preach mercy
Whether they preach truth
Whether they preach grace
Poets are being called to return
To the afterlife where souls
Are rebirthed in the hopes
That poetry stays alive
In the future of a growing
And fruitful generation
To Nikki - I thank you for
Your poise in your role
As a revolutionary
To Andrea - I thank you for
Your quiet and empathetic
Spin on tolerance and rebellion
To the local poets who succumbed
To their internal gaping wounds
You won’t be forgotten and
For certain you’ll be remembered
Whether as grand masters
Whether as poet laureates
Whether as open mic’ers
Whether as curators
Whether as rebels
Whether as bards
A generation is rapidly dying
Baby boomers now retired
Soon to be expired like
Year old coupons
There’s no discounting
Our experiences and
We must live to tell
Our stories for the
Allotted time we are
Given on this land
We are the soothsayers
Never forgetting our
Ancestry and the
Bloodlines our
Words fuse
Carotid
Cannot find an analogy
To dignify the carnage
Though I will never cheer
At the sight of a carotid
Artery busting open
I will also never forget
Lofty expectations from
Authoritarian flunkies
Expecting me to care
About the life of someone
Who made a career out of
Cherry picking which
Lives are unworthy
His existence was a trite couplet
His demise was an extended metaphor
Worthwhile resolution to a dissertation
On violence, cognitive dissonance,
Restitution of my consistency
I don’t condone murder, don’t wish
For bullets to amputate souls from bodies
And I would not ever summon sorcery
And savagery like a spiritual familiar
But his words were shrapnel
Rusty ball bearings with no
Bearing whatsoever on
Furthering humanity
Wasting more space than
An antique car on concrete blocks
So before you accuse me of
Being heartless, remember that
He advocated for my stoning
And blamed my money for
Dismantling our values
He celebrated the Second Amendment
And the casualties needed to sustain it
I want to plead the Fifth Amendment
But I’m not afraid of self-incrimination
I’m not afraid to speak my mind
Using my own mouth, and not
Letting gunpowder saturate
And inflame my expletives
The worth of his life will not
Be up for debate like my
Rights as a queer, time
And time again, and frankly,
He was as useless as a
AC adapter in an DC outlet
I derive no lust from this
Don’t want negativity
To breed like minks
A gunman stole his life
But he already robbed
People of their dignity
I will not celebrate his death
I will not celebrate his life
My cheeks have never been dryer
My empathy always has its limits
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