Cape May Karaoke

vocals rise night static the beach house we
sway to midi music call ourselves karaoke

machines what disappointment to not be
whole humid June familiar shadows

encroach the move I crack my song an egg
to thee to thaw cold exhibitions of the

bottle another popped Corona to thirst
for grand experiences cheaply the tide

a tape loop I do not sing the steady
hand of a lyric but rather the water

Uneven Architecture

birds creak on hills
hedging me & sewage is
dumped into the Ohio
the Allegheny &
Monongahela
nine billion gallons
a year yet there are
sunsets that burn into
me like vehicular
radiation this exhaust
I know from work
is from wanting is
from being diffident
in the greed I cannot
parse between heart &
blood that triangulates
itself around this city
all this virulent discharge
I claim enclosed is home

Live

Each morning awake to shine.
Faucet water runs to the end of water

I am lunch, a cloak, frozen pizza
and a skinny. Reduces
and creates anxiety.

Though poor
I have water I want more–

start typing

James Croal Jackson (he/him) has a chapbook, The Frayed Edge of Memory (Writing Knights Press, 2017), and poems in Pacifica, Reservoir, and Rattle. He edits The Mantle (themantlepoetry.com). Currently, he works in the film industry in Pittsburgh, PA. (jimjakk.com)