Live Nude Poems

I Loved Lucy The grocery store gave a dime apiece for the pop bottles I collected by the side of the road, righteous money, but I kept one back to hold the wild flowers. The flowers, a Snickers, and a lame knock-knock joke went fine with the sunset. Next day in school you blushed as we passed in the hall.

Thrift Store Sweater Threads dangle off the sweater I’ve worn forever, blue and purple billows all across my torso. I can’t just throw away this salvaged dollar from a Goodwill. A cloth can sheath itself on the body and glide forever, walking toward an inevitable unknown destination. The distance is empty space, jammed with ubiquitous sound. I will sew none of it. James Croal Jackson is a Filipino-American poet who works in film production. His latest chapbooks are Count Seeds With Me (Ethel Zine & Micro-Press, 2022) and Our Past Leaves (Kelsay Books, 2021). Recent poems are in Stirring, Vilas Avenue, and *82 Review. He edits The Mantle Poetry from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. (jamescroaljackson.com)

Stalks This abyss of dark corn fields floods your brain and nervous system with violent effigies, waiting to abduct you. Immerse you in flames then just throw you away. Your un-model hands shake inside this pit of toxic abrasion. Turbulent then blurring. Trapped in the never ending descent. Your spinal column degenerates into a rotting corn stalk. Unwanted. From a pall to appalling. Juliet Cook's poetry has appeared in a small multitude of print and online publications. She is the author of numerous poetry chapbooks, recently including "Another Set of Ripped-Out Bloody Pigtails" (The Poet's Haven, 2019), "The Rabbits with Red Eyes" (Ethel Zine & Micro-Press, 2020), "Histrionics Inside my Interior City" (part of Ghost City Press's Summer Micro-Chapbook Series, 2020), "red flames burning out" (Grey Book Press, April 2023) and "Contorted Doom Conveyor" (Gutter Snob Books, July 2023). Later this year, s...