ps4

Fall Guys

/ James Croal Jackson / Leave a comment

gonna be a good dive
            pink windmills spin forever
                       I thanked you already
     I am always thanking you
consider this next apology all ready
               dizzy heights
                       I’ll file in the hi Sara folder
       maybe I will choose to drop
                       down to blue under-surface
                              where everyone’s at I miss that
           you mean I’m supposed to grab a tail
                     with these conveyor belts & keep it
         I don’t know my role
                             but the walls
                       have googly eyes & I don’t mean
                                            the stampede at the checkered line
             these same damn races every time
                      I’ve never watched the procession after me
          don’t worry you haven’t done anything wrong
                                                                                  yet
                          the situation’s complicated
                                                                        continue

(originally published in One, Fall 2022)

Two Days Before Final Fantasy VII Remake, Bernie Ends His Campaign

/ James Croal Jackson / Leave a comment

    to play a game is to simply look into a void I need
    to limit the amount my eyes (or else the world’s
            but a buttercream) I dream I dream in pixels
            nostalgia of many Midgars transformed in what to partake
but all these riches of revolution memory is a waterfall
rushing headfirst cold into pointy rocks I wanted to forget this good
            game with you knowing neither of us could afford the new

(originally published in Marias & Sampaguitas, Summer 2021)

The Days Are Bored With My Language

/ James Croal Jackson / Leave a comment

we are sitting closer
to the television in a brand
new bedroom not
that we bought a new
house rather rearranged
everything the television
Playstation mini
tables dustballs morals
we never labeled
outside obvious
corners the air
conditioning vents in the faraway
summer I hope never
comes yes I am this
amount jaded the new colorful
reflections of the TV
beside its fresh horizon
almost like the screen’s
outside where I can finally live
my real life in pixelated terms
I know I know I am
conflicted about even
the architectural oxygen the wood
was inspected man just not
by me I mean girders in the semi
shallow underground been
scrubbing raw potato skins
only still to grok the boiled
intentions steaming the
mind’s kitchen I don’t got
knives I don’t got any
memory of the chicken
carrot stew just I often
feel infinitesimal I can’t
stop filling overfilling
the pot hot water simply
abundance very thankful
for plastic bags stuffed
in the cold seam of the
world our window
won’t open

(originally published in datura, Summer 2021)

Fall Guys #2

/ James Croal Jackson / Leave a comment

all this balance nothing to show for it
    seesaw the most patient of virtues–
                                   patience
                   get up god damn it
                                     when you fall can you please get the fuck up
              lemons fire from cannons
                        zest on my back
                        & I am always running
                                           can’t say the words right in my head
                              but in the glitch of No Music just levers clicking
                        & motherfuckers shouting woo! in the sorry
                                                                                               white
                                                                                                         sky

(originally published in TRIBES, Fall 2021)