jack henry is a california based writer/editor whose work has recently seen the light of day at pink litter, rye whiskey review, horror sleaze trash, museum of poetry, alien buddha press, vext magazine and others. jack has a new collection coming in fall 2020, "driving w/crazy" from punk hostage press. other collections include "crunked" (epic rites press) and "with the patience of monuments" (neoPoesis) behind bars we didn’t know existed there used to be magic in the air, the sky; swimming through trees; across long painted valleys; deep in a desert few will touch or see; up on the peaks of mountains; in the crest of a canyon; in an afterhours glow of light beaming down from high rise buildings; in the sound of cars shuffling through and across thick rivers of black asphalt; as a child i saw magic in everything; and as grew older magic remained, and now that i am gray, my mind slowing, fog thickens with every day, i wonder… where has the magic gone? magic in nature remains, it’s just a little harder to find, but the magic in daily life feels fragile, weak, a slow gasping death; i am sure it remains in fragments of humanity, but i struggle to see it, to touch or taste it; magic has become the enemy of the state; the fascists in high towers no longer hide in shadows; is the pen really mightier than the sword? i dunno, but i’m going to try and find out… an unsuspecting sky locked in my cage drinking coffee tinged w/whiskey trying to read reports respond to email shake off desire wanton lust & need i remain a criminal a littérateur of no repute devoid of any compass capable to guide processed, packaged, now shelved for consumption on the cold aisle next to pizza & ice cream i'm distracted by all the naked shiny things sweet things littered across my screen filled with temptations strange offerings paid in Bitcoin or cocaine his words are simple direct there is no potential for misinterpretation when i respond i know i have other things to do on the respectable side the side of the cage locked tight but i have a key & as long as i have a key i will dance naked around the fire & watch flames lick up toward an unsuspecting sky - first snow of winter (2006) a first snow of winter drifts across the empty road just outside my window beat cop pulls his coat close nods toward me as I stare out into the night a radiator coughs it’s a cranky bitch rattling lungs of emphysema i wrap a tattered blanket around my bones in a vain attempt at warmth & salvation last Tuesday i found matching shoes at a local thrift w/good soles & strong laces a little journal in the Northeast some university just bought five poems ten cents a line i pace in circles keep time w/the thump thump in my chest a yellow moon glows off glass a picture of someone else’s lover sits on the dresser i pick up a revolver snub-nose .38 the one i found loaded in a dumpster the one missing one round & put in back in a drawer i pull on my new shoes & head to the Jewish deli on the corner for a beer and pastrami & a chance to stretch the bones awhile cat hair in my coffee |
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