Month: January 2026

On Sassafras the KEPT ONES

/ James Croal Jackson / Leave a comment

                         In the alley toward the strip yellow
                       plant caution tape walking through trash

                                 valley to Iron City Beer no one
                             needs to pack bags stepping on

                    white rocks on Sassafras the KEPT ONES
                           under clouds. Wonder who makes

                    it out alive. Plastic bag with Lysol
                           wipe flapped in the wind when tossed

                        in the trash. Another event stupidly
                               beautiful to admire. When I look away

                     I could crash into sunflower NO PARKING
                                        signs. What masochist places

                                  these in the middle of a long busy stretch
                                      of sidewalk? Now bees won’t leave

                          me alone in this heat

(originally published in Spinozablue, Fall 2022)

Sine

/ James Croal Jackson / Leave a comment

sometimes I am too conformed to the shape
of music to hear the trapeze and

trampoline of flute and synth flinging ever
toward the eternal soundscape. pigeon

percussion next door the clanking spoons
below– I think we need distance.

Your heartbeat swells across soundstage,
no stethoscope, no starlight though once

we wanted to be famous. or want. it is
complicated. we are more paranoid

of strangers than ever before. that’s
no baking sheet, it’s rustling leaves,

not your shoes or mine. You ask
questions I don’t have.

(originally published in Pirene’s Fountain, Summer 2024)