Jackson

On the first day    at the beach I walk east into a howling Holding my black hat on my Then I go back On the second day it rains I work on my On the third day it’s calm I walk east again Flies diving in under my black Trying to get under my sunglasses Feet—only—in… Read more

He handed her a feather a tall black feather pulled from his tail, said take this home with you. Was that all he could spare? One feather? His tail and wings were ragged. Maybe he wandered around leaving a trail of feathers in this place and that place, the flicky ash of his personality, his… Read more

I’d like to talk to him. Say, “What the fuck?” Give him a chance to explain. Read more

It’s 35 minutes to midnight on the 4th of January. If I can tell you that this one room holds all candles— tapers, tealights, pillars, plain white power-outage poles, small votives for struggling souls, delicate dinner-party decoratives— in all scents— sandalwood, ylang ylang, rose, smoke, vanilla, mint, and many nameless synthetics, novel, teasing, but ultimately… Read more

I walk up & down the platform reading Charles Bukowski, feeling more & more depressed from all that truth I couldn’t get a date with that exciting man He’s been chatting me up from a distance using technology But he backs away when I try to get some reality Maybe he knows I want to… Read more

5th of October 2008. Capitalism is teetering, tripping, reeling. At 1:25am on a Sunday morning I’m not at an anarchist punk gig. I’m awoken by a scream on TV. Samantha (12) has friends “sleeping” over. I get up, yell “for fuck’s sake, Samantha!” and go back to bed. I dream the New York Stock Exchange… Read more