Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
Castaway On a Sea of Twisted Smiles Now I’m sleeping in, As if the sunlight were Something else to outrun. It’s always a slow motion Slide into depression, Cold sweat up And down my protruding Spine, Eyelids like heavy Boulders Continue reading Castaway On a Sea of Twisted Smiles & Two other poems by Ted Jackins
You Can’t Take It with You On the nights Where I can’t sleep I sit at the kitchen Table bathed in smoke And listen to the rain As it beats the shadows Into submission, Instead of being gently Lulled into Continue reading You Can’t Take It with You by Ted Jackins
I Will Not Cry at Work Today I will not cry At work today As if I am paid By the tear, My mind a warped Vibration Like a radio Stuck on static. No, I will not cry At work Continue reading I Will Not Cry at Work Today by Ted Jackins
Word Processing I ate four typewriter Ribbons and shit out A half dozen poems, Four short stories And a couple of novels. It’s a strange world When you’re starving, You’ll eat almost anything And say “Fuck the consequences,” Little rivulets Continue reading Word Processing by Ted Jackins