James Croal Jackson


same as spit  
on a band room floor 
without knowing   we are all
holding information too 
great to actually understand    
trombone blaring   
mouths into the sea   
to conformity’s beat    
suntan lotion and absurdism    
smother meaningless philosophies all 
over your skin  and block out the rest

James Croal Jackson swore he’d never work in film again after leaving L.A. He has a chapbook, The Frayed Edge of Memory (Writing Knights Press, 2017), and has poems in Columbia Journal, Rattle, and Hobart. He edits The Mantle. Currently, he works in the film industry in Pittsburgh, PA. jimjakk.com