by JL Jacobs | Aug 23, 2019 | Short Fiction
Stardust “It’s time.” “Now?” “Yes. You better come now… today… as soon as you can.” It’s Clara. My sister’s voice is unusually soft, unstable. On the plane, the sun has already set and it’s a dark clear night. From my window seat I gaze down at the...
by JL Jacobs | Aug 14, 2019 | Short Fiction
Freshly Baked Bread “Happy birthday, Mom!” Carol’s sing-song voice came through Mom’s kitchen speaker phone. “Oh, Carol, I’m glad it’s you, honey. I was going to call you tonight because I wanted to tell you that Dad and I have a present for you.” “But, Mom, It’s...
by JL Jacobs | Aug 12, 2019 | Short Fiction
CURFEW When there’s a window in the street, don’t stand near the shooting. Our greatest performance is being still. Not to have fun but to imagine having fun. Yoke on the horizon. Cats hiding food with their teeth, like artists, unable to do things as others do. If...
by JL Jacobs | Aug 7, 2019 | Short Fiction
Art: Cyril Larvor COCA COLA For fifty cents she buys a cold can at the deli near her house. She cracks its mouth and walks to the pier. Looking at the water where many boats are gathered she lets the cold can precipitate. Men adjust their sails and empty their fishing...
by JL Jacobs | Aug 5, 2019 | Short Fiction
Art: Static by William Zuback RADIO I hope it’s not true that when you grow up your heart dies. I read Faulkner’s letters to Malcolm Cowley where he admits he’s still trying to put it all, if possible, on one pinhead. I go to get my blood drained to test for hormone...
by JL Jacobs | Jun 19, 2019 | Short Fiction
Art: Focused by Fabrice Poussin IT COULD HAVE HAPPENED In 1958, or maybe 1959, Daddy put me in the cab of his dented pickup. We drove to KEY-T TV studios in Santa Barbara so I could meet my grandfather. Daddy had grown up an only child, raised by his mother, and had...
