Six Poems
by James Croal Jackson
The Great White
I. Before
the dead man wore an inflatable shark
of course, he wasn’t dead
when he walked the sidewalk
toward Kristen’s house with a hammer
in his hand. we were filming
a movie and he was going
to live forever when we moved
to Los Angeles
II. Los Angeles
before the architectural marvel
of dishes towered in our bachelor
kitchen. before the ants took
over. before the bedbugs
and the dumpster diving
where like a fisherman he reeled
in Grecian portraits
of modern Americans
hung them all over the walls
of the apartment I left
the dead man with the boys
even though at the time
we would have said men
because the dogs were
howling all hours on 29th Avenue.
the roosters ca-cawing
in the drought afternoons.
III. After
each day would have been
a good morning
had I never received
Dave’s call in the shadow
of a tree, years later,
when I returned
to visit Los Angeles.
The Red Couch in My Office
behind me there is a line of traffic
a dead end is born the sun
window burns my houseplants
one stop to the next
in the office everyone rots
Tyler says the red couch is mine
in my home in the corner
for any purpose I want future or present
Away
On the plane
surrounded
by strangers
on Christmas
my loneliness
lets on like
it was never
there. Sleeping
better than
I have in
months
still missing
the line
I left hanging
before lift-
off.
Beach Bum
Spilled beer on towel
on the brown sand
I am drinking,
I am leaving the city
to land as a hawk
on the tree. Sometimes
the sound of wings carries
like conversations of love
on the water. I don't work
when I am worthless
so here, take a bundle of
white washed-up branches.
July
Beside us a machine starts moving
we turn to look lost in odious wonder
a dump truck piles car wrecks
saws in the darkness buzz
jets with new power to burn
I nourish in the lonely hearts
of others living in the US the s-s-
s-splosion could kill us the air
we breathe our oxygen comes
in throngs a jigsaw rear window
shatters hot bricks collapsing
I'll always be better than you
the song goes while everything is destroyed
Request
the fence is the country
you were asked to leave
your keys
BIO: James Croal Jackson is a Filipino-American poet working in film production. His latest chapbook is A God You Believed In (Pinhole Poetry, 2023). Recent poems are in The River, Mangrove Review, and Packingtown Review. He edits The Mantle Poetry from Nashville, Tennessee. (jamescroaljackson.com)