Jim Zola is a poet and photographer living in North Carolina.
Your Other Life
What does it matter what reality is outside myself – Baudelaire
You want to live your other life in a room
with blue bottles, where the light outside
is understood, where words filter through the blueness
and cover you with a new kind of need.
My Last Poem
Fuck nostalgia and its bony fingers
stroking my wrist like a lover.
I once pined
about a time
when everything I owned
fit in my car.
Now our days move
like invisible freight trains.
I count them and then
I've stopped writing poems again.
There's war. but that's not the reason.
Debt - should I die today
they'll bury me in it.
Perhaps health and love so casually mulched,
or the dexterity of greater wit.
Sometimes I can understand
the sad fabric that floats
like chaotic lace.
Other times I know one word
is too much.
The Children’s Crusade