Mark Jackley Manuals Who knows why I dreamt that I could start my Ford by crawling underneath it and lighting votive candles— it was car repair for poets, staring at the cold baffling machinery in the little darkness, admiring the perfect curve of the crescent wrench, which recalled the dance of starlings spelling something in […]
Read MoreMark Jackley My Father Is Drinking Gin and Reading a Detective Novel Eyes closed, paperback pressed against his chest, he is breathing slowly in the dark as mysteries whisper through his Banlon shirt into his unsolved heart. Mark Jackley‘s poems have appeared in Sugar House Review, Fifth Wednesday, The Cape Rock, Talking River, and other […]
Read MoreMark Jackley To a Dog from Guatemala Asleep in a Brooklyn Bar Holy Virgin, thank you for appearing as a mutt to flick cigar-brown eyes, slowly wag your tail, affirm without a word there are no borders or strangers here tonight, just a few strays. Lucinda Williams Door to heart kicked open, Christ it’s good […]
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