Poems
by James Croal Jackson
Today I saw you you looked healthier but you didn't notice me I had searched for you everywhere
Seeking Gloves in Maryland
The Awakening is closed
beach sand in January wind
face two stone hands
there is a mall seven miles
away we stand in Starbucks
warmth refusing service
holding hands
I wish I could give
you my skin
In the Texas farm
explosion, some survive but
most are too wounded.
The farmer says they
will have to kill these things,
as if they are things,
not breathing beings,
not gentle in their low-
pitched songs. And I know.
I eat meat. I am part
of the system that makes them
sing then suffer then die.
I want to splurge on dive bars and thrift stores
I want a shore brimming with relics
in our endless quest for cash
in our ceaseless self-tweaking
I wish I were young again
instead of scrounging for change
this time I would do with less greed
more humility
without peaks
without verdicts
I'd be a sip of Scotch whiskey
a tyrant with a mild vice
who would admire the painting
without caring who painted it
Zoom (April 2020)
there was Wayne there was Jess alive in front
of my mind my eyes were screening a scream
inside (I am) beside all distance what I
look forward to is where is forward
everything behind me the bluewhite walls
pushing pushing
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