by JL Jacobs | Dec 9, 2019 | Poetry
February Many of our life giving rituals are deeply private, whether repeated daily or annually, they gift us some sort of solace. A good snow crunching walk late at night seems to do it for me. If I could, preferably down the old train tracks stretching...
by JL Jacobs | Dec 9, 2019 | Poetry
IN OUT IN OUT IN IN IN An acacia sings itself a blanket and a pomegranate grafted to make a river of red flowers flashing fire to and from our one deeper heart saying it again with a consistently irregular rhythm. Our one deeper heart aching like this: in out in out...
by JL Jacobs | Dec 6, 2019 | Poetry
I HOLD MY FATHER’S BEER I Grainy 4×4 photos like some prop deck of saloon cards my mother has filed in a yellowed Polaroid Flashgun #268 box. Meant for automatic color-pack cameras, this box contains the cycle of life: film to camera,...
by JL Jacobs | Nov 29, 2019 | Poetry
RETURNING AT HIGH SPEEDS Much faster—that’s why a picture is worth a thousand free falling peregrines. But what to do with wings with a weight 21 billion times that of the sun’s mass? Can you tell me more about what the damage is like? Wait—do you mean the...
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...
