Our Bodies Connected

Our Bodies Connected by James Croal Jackson


(originally published in Neologism Poetry Journal, Summer 2017)


November, 2014

Over the weekend
we ingested paranoia,
the green hue of the room
obscured by smoke.

The fragile wings
of dreams left our lips
chapped, kisses more static
than electric.


(originally published in Ginosko Literary Journal, Summer 2017)



dad rode motorcycles
through west virginia

mountains gathering speed
in the stillness of wheels

yet you are afraid to change
oil or fix your slow traction

of time– anything mechanical
is coiled magic in function.

the broken-down car sputters.
the ghost lays on cardboard

leaking, dripping synthetic
black splotches on concrete–

no knowledge remains.
there is a rattle

in the carburetor
when you drive


(originally published in The Good Men Project, Summer 2017)


East Through California

I argue with the music in my car again
those rock’n’roll pots and pans clanging
in the soup kitchen of my imagination
the Steel Reserve of my rumba rumblin’
stomach unfilled from Maruchan ramen

really I’m running from anything but home:
in the apartment of my car the desert’s
a sandstorm of faulty A/C and mountains
obscuring the view of my future and
there’s nowhere else to go but here


(originally published in Outcast Poetry, Spring 2017)