Iced Cream By Jesus Correa: Outsider and Outlaw Poet

When I founded Zombie Logic Press in 1997, my sole purpose was to publish my own books of poetry. I had grown weary of the small press scene, as at that time you still had send paper manuscripts to prospective zines, get rejected most of the time, buy more stamps, and the process took months, even years to be completed. It never occurred to me that I would eventually publish other peoples’ books.

Until I had heart surgery to replace a heart valve and a section of my ascending aorta that had ballooned to the point of bursting. After the recovery process it became important to me to give a voice to other writers from my hometown, Rockford, Illinois, and publish the best writers I could find for a national audience.

The first one was easy. Jesus Abraham Correa VII is a sort of legend in Rockford. I began hearing about this eccentric and multi-talented character years before we ever met, when I was running a bar my brother had bought called Castaways, literally under a bridge. It was a real dive, but we drew well, and at one event, a fundraiser for a local film festival, Jesus Correa performed stand up comedy, which is only one of the things he does. He is also an outstanding visual artist, in many bands as both a solo artist and King of the Demons, a stand up comic, puppet maker, parade leader, and poet. he even ran for mayor as a Green party candidate.


I was lucky enough to become friends with Jesus when I moved Downtown, and after my surgery when I had the epiphany that I wanted to publish other peoples’ books his was the first I wanted to do. We had a few beers at CJ’s one afternoon when I was buying a Rowdy Roddy Piper from him, and I casually asked. He agreed, and we a scant 18 months later he sent me a manuscript. Working on the production of this book with Jesus, Tim Stotz, and Jenny Mathews was a blast. And I spared no expense because of the color illustrations. It is a lavish book, and I hope you’ll check it out at Zombie Logic Press.


for the drowning to come
the power is all gone, and we are all in the dark
it’s been raining for weeks, and it’s never going to
that’s what the weather man said, before the power
went out
we’re all going to drown, we are all going to drown
and there’s no more TV, no more cartoons
goodbye career, and goodbye to you
and so we all start to climb, to the highest of grounds,
but we are all going to drown, we are all going to
now your money’s no good, it’s just paper with ink
but you still taste so good, and your lips are still pink
and the tide is coming in, hear the water rush into
if you hold me while i drown, i will hold you while you
so children eat your ice cream, while there is ice
cream to be eaten
and parents beat your children, while there are chil-
dren to be beaten
and i am trying to be happy with every breath that i
breath in
but we are all going to drown soon and it makes me
so sad.
04-19-2014 02;09;27PM
Outsider Art by Jesus Abraham Correa VII of Rockford, Illinois
There were enough good times for every one of
them, but he decided to hoard them all, to keep them
all to him self, all of the good times. The others were
unaware there were any good times to even be had,
he hid them so well, and they were unaware of their
misery, because they did not know any different,
it was all they knew, and it was well and fine with
He hoarded the good times, and he would go away
for extended periods of time, and he would sit there
alone, enjoy all of the good times, sitting there alone,
just him and the good times, those lonely, lonely good
good night
good night you ugly cruel world,
good night you selfish rotten peopel,
sweet dreams to you liars,
god bless all of you sinners,
to the whores, and the drunks,
to the bottom feeders and the disabled,
be well, take care,
be kind,
be kind in your eyeballs, and stare the other peopel
in their eyeballs when you can, and scare them, and
control them when given the opportunity,
keep your heart hardened,
trust not a soul,
be rambunctious and lively and thoughtless with
your decisions,
wear your ignorance like a suit of armor,
drink your mothers liqour,
take all of the acid you can,
fight all of the bums,
work your way slowly into the neighbor’s child’s
be yourself,
breath hard and often,
tie your shoes, and be proud that you can tie your
shoes, and that you have shoes to tie,
escape and destroy the mediocrity,
live life like there is a reason,
because there is,
and if there is not, then we are all doomed,
make a fucking reason godammit.
good night.
Iced Cream Cover
Iced Cream by Jesus Abraham Correa VII
stink like
i stink like dried up molded things. i stand in the sun
and i drink water. i blast water onto an old garage.
the water comes out at such great pressure that it
tears the paint away from the old wood. sometimes
it even tears the old wood away from the old wood.
once it tore the skin from near my thumb, that took
awhile to heal. i am boiling rice and baking chicken.
i am dripping with sweat. you probably are too. i can
hear someone with some sort of a leafblower blowing
things away. i don’t think it is leaves. i am going to
go outside and think about things and sweat. i am
going to drink water and suck smoke into my lungs.
i am probably not going to live forever. i will try
John Wayne Gacy
The art of Jesus Correa, the best dishwasher in the world

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