by JL Jacobs | Jan 14, 2021 | Art, Poetry
Art by: Cyril Larvor ouroboros vapour lulls thensmashes sparksof colourfrom the grey lightning untamedfor a timeis bornmature and dead before it drips thisstorm will wellbefore it wailsbefore it dries before the calma debt is tornfrom weary restso forward, back ...
by JL Jacobs | Mar 26, 2020 | Short Fiction
Cutting The grass grows so fast with all the rain. Seemingly depthless pools sit inside hollow trunks. It is early Saturday morning, and the mower, in some way elementary, roars, wets leaves, and allows a feeling another kind of quietness. What remains is an innate...
by JL Jacobs | Mar 2, 2020 | Short Fiction
On Becoming French Okies “French” invokes Paris, Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame Cathedral, fine cuisine and wine. But there are other places where “French” has fostered for centuries. With name like “Boudreau” and my wife, Dorothy, maiden name being “Cottreau” and both...
by JL Jacobs | Jan 22, 2020 | Poetry
Haggard She was waiting for me at the gate. She led me into the cellar and tried to open my eyes. My little sister, who had died a few hours after my grandmother, lay in the arms of a female marble. She whispered in ears, ...
by JL Jacobs | Dec 23, 2019 | Short Fiction
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