Jackson

I’m fucking James Bond— the Roger Moore James, not the Sean Connery— the straightedge James, not the curved— and it’s nice to be fucking James for once But there’s not just me in my dream: there’s another me, ten years younger, five inches shorter, six semitones higher, with flick-shoulder curl-tipped platinum hair and narrow little Read more

Talk to me,      brother moon. I cannot be another moon I am a tree and a forest of trees I am an oak; I have acorns and robins My twig-fingers, roots and limbs,      seedlings and saplings and sap-boned friends      generate their noisy green all day All day I am bedecked and bespangled by sister sun Read more

he says when they were younger he had a crush   he loves her voice and her poet’s words her poet’s words   so I watch the clip she has long black hair a short black dress too much mascara for that industrial area   for those scrubby dunes   for all that sand   for anywhere in daylight, really she’s indie alright   she’s windblown and Read more

after a night with a clear dream the fluorescent tube fails handshake   thankyou orange glow there, blue-white flashes here the eyes so clear no sudden light goodbye the dim stretch too much space Read more

With a series of txts we I take wine We share a plate of The light dim, the candle talk   poetry   anarchy & how not to & how bad my & how clumsy & how we hate mornings We move outside so he take our I   up I stare at   try to look because of his & staring to Read more

If my tears soak the dirt of this barren place will it grow a sheltering tree? Or an ornate streetlamp and a tram-stop and a corner cafe and a friend? Read more