Kooser – via New England by Damon Piletz

by JL Jacobs | Sep 10, 2018 | Poetry

Art: Cyril Larvor,  @cyrillarvor_blackbird KOOSER – VIA NEW ENGLAND My father wears wrinkles on his face as though they’ve never been anything other than parched but untilled soil with less rainfall each year of one continuous season of an unforgiven drought...

I Am Alone in the Twenty-Second Century by Keith Mark Gaboury

by JL Jacobs | Sep 5, 2018 | Poetry

Art: Bust, Museum of Natural History, Paris 13╦Ü by Roger Camp I AM ALONE IN THE TWENTY-SECOND CENTURY “A messaging app where users . . . build a digital library of information about themselves. That library is run through a neural network to create a bot that . . ....

My Scarlett Johansson Robot Union in the Twenty-Second Century by Keith Mark Gaboury

by JL Jacobs | Sep 3, 2018 | Poetry

Art: Pink for Blue Beauty by Erik Leraz MY SCARLETT JOHANSSON ROBOT UNION IN THE TWENTY-SECOND CENTURY Look at you: my creation in rubber skin shining a human glow when stretched over plastic ribs. Come with me to the digital trees sacking death and disease where...

DNA Pollution in the Twenty-Second Century by Keith Mark Gaboury

by JL Jacobs | Aug 24, 2018 | Poetry

Art: The Guy by Alex Duensing DNA POLLUTION IN THE TWENTY-SECOND CENTURY At Easter supper, I hacked up a storm cloud. With my smokestack throat choking Bryson sight over fish eyes on china plates, Charlie’s potato mouth proclaims he passed on his twenty-first century...

The Silence of Sand Pouring by Tama Hazak

by JL Jacobs | Aug 22, 2018 | Poetry

Art: Faltering Queen by Eian Hazzard THE SILENCE OF SAND POURING Translated by Aya Azrielant About the author: Tama Hazak was born in Kibbutz Afikim 1971 daughter to Aya and the poet Yechiel Hazak.  After spending two years in London she moved with her mother to Tel...

Reading in the Twenty-Second Century by Keith Mark Gaboury

by JL Jacobs | Aug 20, 2018 | Poetry

Art: Rolling In by Marie McCloskey READING IN THE TWENTY-SECOND CENTURY Splash language into my eyes like bathtub water. I feel, I love digitized words surging through my Pacific wave vision. Who has the time to spend a sunloop piecemealing a Victorian novel when I...