 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 PoemFuck 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 recount them. 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. No. 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 |
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