Jordan Patalano
Artist Statement
I didn't seek out any big ideas when writing my poems, but I find myself drawn to love and memory. I also find myself borderline obsessed with beauty, trying to capture what I find beautiful and hold it to my chest. Love and beauty are often one in the same for me. Not romantic love, but the kind that’s coated in nostalgia and gloss. The love a person has for a place, or a time. I think of the type of love that’s clouded but still real, still tangible. Thats beauty. I’ve been writing about the past with a warm glow, an admiration for who I was and who I am! I hope whoever is reading this feels that warmth as well.
I love you!
Jordan :)
"I Love N. Y." or, Our apt 1979
I Love N. Y.
Since 1979
I love it all
Love to Eat Out.
Love trinkets
with potted plants
with matchbooks
with tchotchkes.
I love stained wallpaper, thick white paint,
however many layers it takes
To cover the stains of people then people then people
Put a nail in the wall next to a crack, and another.
Why not one more?
Just to hang a bag or two.
It'll get painted over again and again
In a year and a year
Or forty-seven.
They loved it too,
A boob,
Just one.
A Bag,
or two.
little glass trays
make three.
They loved it all
Them and I,
We love to Eat Out.
Love the breeze.
A chorus line, a pencil pen
arms outstretched
To one another and another
I Love N. Y.
I love them too,
Objects on our windowsill.
Scrawl on our calendar.
An old nail in the wall.
We love it all again and again and again
© 2026 Jordan Patalano
Laura Westlake, “I Love N. Y.” (Nicky’s apt 1979), 1979, All Rights Reserved
Hello Kittie
Little kittie
I don't miss you
but I know you
all the while
When I found you
Lost in wander
Lost to memory
Lonesome isle
Are you found now?
Photo faded
Fur patinaed
Parts of whole
Pretty kittie
Stay with me now
On my mantle
Keep your soul
© 2026 Jordan Patalano
who's afraid of little girls?
Loud girls with horse faces and big noses ripping not-quite-ripe apples from gnarled limbs they tug and scream grow red in the face climb to the top just to shout at the world six feet higher.
Loud girls with fucked teeth popping kernels wedged with mangled braces colored black blue eyes for halloween nights blowing caramel smacking sickly sweet toffee stuck between silver capped molars.
Loud girls holding hands tumbling twisting tough scuffed elbows and stained knees with dirt under fingernails smashed and stubbed hooting hollering sprinting down lawns and fields and forests burnt from the sun behind them red scalps between jagged parts.
Loud girls called chatty cathys with boy names and early periods who say hello! hi! hey! how are you I'm! I'm I am not afraid of red yellow and blue not afraid of bright and blight and light with raised hands and tied tongues lisping sally seashores.
Loud girls hit cracked notes on stage under lights brushed bold eyeshadow pink lips cheeks tongues turned out tuned off with a puffed proud chest voice singing screaming belting high low medium until their throats go sore.
Loud girls that spit when they talk spit at the world gesture wildly and willfully obtrusively hugging too tightly too closely playing too rough being too much smacking friends and foes with wide arms spinning faster still.
Loud girls who triple dog dare you say I told you so I knew you would I knew you wouldn't look you in the eyes say I miss you I missed you I love you they love they love they love me they love me they love me!
© 2026 Jordan Patalano
Jordan Patalano, who’s afraid of little girls?, 2026, All Rights Reserved