by JL Jacobs | Nov 27, 2019 | Poetry
Life in a Sterile Environment: A Case Study 1. Manna must be pried from the road. A tow headed boy helps me. We’re a couple: mother/son, father/daughter, lovers. The mind is made to accept so much, truth we couldn’t possibly verify except to point out new hairs...
by JL Jacobs | Nov 25, 2019 | Poetry
LALAH TRIES TO DUCK After the next earthquake east of Kathmandu the last snow leopard will eat a bullet for you playing the role of Lalah (self-possessed but afraid) just trying to feed your family. LALAH (cocking her head) We’re shooting? You said we weren’t...
by JL Jacobs | Nov 15, 2019 | Poetry
A portrait of the artist as an artist When I first wake, the bed is already in the other room. A streetcar. A candle falls into the fire. In the next dream, a trestle bridge does nothing. The stream is at the lowest part of the valley. Après une petit-dejeuner, je...
by JL Jacobs | Nov 13, 2019 | Poetry
How Would The King Tell It? after Selah Saterstrom What does a fire sentence look like? .. Like an oracle, like an atonement to listening. In art is there a traditional way that a mother looks at her baby? .. In art a mother is never the king. Can we fall in love with...
by JL Jacobs | Nov 11, 2019 | Poetry
A portrait of a vase on a table The moon in the wall, in the park, dusty is crooked. Then a picture of a nail in the wall, a chair covered leg, crooked ducks. A hat is too weeds, too weeds all along the growing wall. A day in the corner of the attic so alley, we...
by JL Jacobs | Nov 8, 2019 | Poetry
ESCAPE TO NOWHERE Good morning! Where would you like to go? I’d like to go to the Museum of Contemporary Art. How long do you think it will take to get there? It depends on the traffic. Or you could make a Sackler-sized donation. Good morning, what are you...
