I am
& nothing
about
the murk
of love
extracted
from
my worst
(originally published in Terror House Magazine, Summer 2019)
Short
Same as It Ever Was
I am reliving and reliving the remote
control buttons then buttons
in your bed, golden room of silk
and how many times did we drink
like that? Dropping beer after beer
at Zeno’s then groaning summer sleep
right after. What were we dreaming
about? The cat was snoring and
what an endless loop! Blinking
awake and wanting to crush
night back with aluminum eyelids
(originally published in The Drunken Llama, Summer 2021)
Spirit (Green Autumn)
What I was telling Kurt
was the danger
nostalgia
of loneliness
too close to the wound
a candle drips
old-timey tunes
still fresh
like traveling
through the pinhole
of a new vortex
I say I am alive
and someone new
knows there is
disagreement
in the leaves
how this fall
they are not
changing
only pulling
by the shoulders
saying you
will come
along
whether
you want to
or not
(originally published in Pretty Cool Poetry Thing, 2019)
Text to Myself
I am enough to fail you, too. Thanks.
Thanks again. What you’re advertising is
you’re not going anywhere. A pebble in a
puddle. A train softly humming in the past.
The cat scratches at a door you never open.
(originally published in The Heartland Review, Fall 2019)
New Year
I stay stone, rigid,
a bronze trombone.
I live another year,
eyeing a future
no further than
tomorrow’s muddy
sunrise.
(originally published in Black Moon Magazine, Spring 2021)
How to Play with Food / Scarcity
if
there’s
a
slice
of
tomato
stuck
to
the
wall
use
your
tongue
as
a
forklift
to
catapult
it
onto
mine
(originally published in Rabid Oak, Summer 2019)
Overtime
January, so–
renewal, no, just
soaking in the sunrise,
the year– not NEW
year, same shit
as last, endless weeks
of overtime, begging
the sun
please change
your sleep pattern,
stay up all night
for me!
(originally published in bluepepper, Winter 2021)
Diet Mountain Dew
my job? refill your addiction
slam it out
of storage into the office
refrigerator
the mountain stream
having peaked at an earlier age
you say it gives no kick
anymore this lack of sugar
necessary
these
tendencies materialized
into a lifestyle of cool
mixed with limited
not good enough
& such & such
aluminum this life
we recycle daily
in this waterfall
of unlimited pleasure
there must be an end
to any of this. at a certain
point there’s no more
zest there’s no
more
(originally published in Maudlin House, Winter 2019)
I Call Bullshit Upon the Throat of My Art
Palm to neck– tactile hypocrisy. My Adam’s apple,
weren’t my lips once sweet for Jesus? Crucifixion
was puberty lapping holy water in adulthood’s
church, blessed be hope. To remake myself
is a perpetual game of jacks and marbles
rolled by someone older. Rejecting rules,
I say I’ll get better.
(originally published in Eunoia Review, Winter 2019)
Balance
bubblegum, bean
or J for jelly bean
and the first letter
of your name
your bent elbow
your bent knee
upside
down
interpretations. the morning
of early language
the balloon is red
your eyes black
the sky red
your eyes white
the sky white
your eyes red
black drape of night
white rainbow
white sun
everything between
the margins of the
mental spiritual
physical colorful
hangs in
the balance
(originally published in Vamp Cat Magazine, Winter 2019)
James Croal Jackson 