Jackson

Facebook wall: screens of quick-slap backslap happy birthdays like yelled across a noisy bar like look at me talking to I searched through a shop for ten minutes or more to find the perfect card— A black one with a Took it to the Waited in line Looked in my purse Paid Made small talk Read more

Music with love in it makes me write but words on websites make me think. If my money can reach where my poems don’t and my credit card can dig the African dirt and water can flow and children can drink without walking miles in the pounding heat— it’s something. African Well Fund Read more

The moon is not full as I look up at three o’clock in the morning trying to lead him by the hand to my front door   He will not take my hand   He puts his hand on my butt instead and we walk to my front door in the cloudmoon dark having kissed and kissed   I pause and Read more

That morning in the supermarket we queued with full trolleys, six deep at the thirteen checkouts. It was busier than Christmas and transcendently calm. Not one baby cried not one child misbehaved not one parent shouted no-one sighed or frowned and no-one flirted. Outside, our cars and houses waited among the trees. Some of us Read more