Jackson

TOTALITARIANISM begins at home First published in Not Entirely Present Read more

A painting by Hokusai, the ragged tree curves out and over the water, dipping the tips of its long fingernails. Beneath its elegant gnarl, night rain has wet the riverbank. I can’t sit. I squat then stand. It’s hard to have a routine, walk, contemplate, what with children, friends, the weather, the screaming of power… Read more

On the bridge the laned cars queue like cells in a narrowed artery. Beneath all that the river: a broad mirror After rain as I walk beside the mirror I’m poor as an empty can left on an exiled mattress The path and I become more travelled       Our spaces open       Our stones loosen After rain       as the light… Read more

There was a young fellow named Cheesy whose bedroom was messy and sleazy. There were orange peels, socks, dirty tissues and jocks and the smell made his mother uneasy. First published in Positive Words Read more

I drink until I pass out says the baby’s bib. With a picture of a bottle. Not a mother. First published in Writ Poetry Review Read more

I can’t walk around without making a clatter I can’t sit close to the fire I can’t give my father a soft embrace I can’t even want to I can’t help being made of wood I can’t stop my nose growing I can’t work as a marionette: I have no strings I can’t say what… Read more