BARD by Mark Jackley I was going to write some crap about how my maple tree blooms like an umbrella, shielding me, oh barf... when suddenly I remembered the angry downpour of your words mashed down on the paper, front... Continue Reading →
THOUGH LEVON HELM IS DEAD by Mark Jackley After nearly losing a finger, my wife watched the turtle move to the music of April beautifully, slowly, fiercely, rocking out a rhythm in the wet and glittering grass toward the pond.
Doors by Mark Jackley The box truck said Commercial and Industrial Doors, Baltimore, MD. Just think, a whole truck full of doors: barriers and gateways, secret-keepers, sentries of "You're fucking kidding me" or "Hal, we’re letting you go," a load... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 