“Super Bowl, 2025” by James Croal Jackson

NEW POETRY

we wore our best hunter-green waited patiently

as men took a different kind of field we craved

sustenance a resurrection a flight a waiting

by window in the purple light under wrong

tin roof what we tossed into sky we threw

away our wing-missiles pigskins of self

talons landing burrowing deep out of view

what craft drunk disturbance in the flapping

february frigidity that beat against our jackets

yours the bird slick knit on surface mine

a thready childhood blanket to keep no one

and nothing not the least of heat my heart

drinks beside you as it waits for the game

to be good but it never does and always was.

James Croal Jackson is a Filipino-American poet working in film production. His latest chapbook is A God You Believed In (Pinhole Poetry, 2023). Recent poems are in ITERANT, Stirring, and The Indianapolis Review. He edits The Mantle Poetry from Nashville, Tennessee. (jamescroaljackson.com)

“Hello, My Name Is” by James Croal Jackson

NEW POETRY

(publicdomainpicturesdotnet)

Hello, my name is Hello.
Yes, it rhymes with yellow,

mellow, Jell-O. You know.
I don’t talk much, I just drink.

Put me in a taxi, call me Buddy,
take me anywhere. I don’t care.

Home is the bottom of a bottle,
the last drop a farewell kiss

before I blast into space,
my veins full of rocket fuel.

Can you turn down the heat?
My tongue’s a rag dipped in oil.

What do you say, candle?
You are my only friend

in this dark room.
My words are an old car

that won’t start. A clunk here,
a sputter there. I need a tune-up,

a shot of WD-40 for the rusty hinge
of my mouth. I walk these streets

a ghost, invisible to everyone.
Don’t pretend you know me.

You don’t know my name.

“Man Shouts” by James Croal Jackson

NEW POETRY

all the balloons were sent back
living God in front of the bomb

the strawberry rotates like a peak
at the end of an agreement

I want to talk about the wisdom of the tree
angel branch

efforts to incur God

now we are surprised at the link
back to the driver’s head in high grass

I will believe in heaven in the apocalypse
in war with understanding

is a falling nuclear bomb.

(photo from health.usnews)

James Croal Jackson edits The Mantle Poetry from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. (jamescroaljackson.com) This is his fifth appearance at Fast Pop Lit.

“Casino” by James Croal Jackson

NEW POETRY

(photo c/o lasvegas.co.tz)

My head is an avalanche

and you are the sparrow

(sorrow) at the foot

of the bed. I’m sorry

for bringing the casino

to work & developing

that further. Slots slots

slots slots slots. If

your heart’s a roulette

may I have another

spin? Another evening

aiming a slingshot

into green glass bottles

on my sister’s balanced

head. No one said

this was a good idea,

but I keep clinking

coins into slots

beneath heavy

constellations

of lights. I

declare the world

my next-of-kin.

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)

This is his fourth appearance at Fast Pop Lit, with another poem soon to come.

“House Concert” by James Croal Jackson

(THIRD OF THREE POEMS)

Anteater in an audience of

under-thirties. Metal microphone’s

demonic glint. Guitar on green

rack. Sad songs sing for

yellow-eyed grass to sway to.

Kill me, saccharine sugar. I

allowed myself to

undress my fur and

foreclaws.

Fire burns in the auburn

my species warned

against– a crowd of sadness

no nation’s a stranger to.

James Croal Jackson‘s first autumn 2023 poem for us was “Moment (October).”

His second autumn 2023 poem for us was “Fault.”

“Moment (October)”

A POEM BY JAMES CROAL JACKSON

spring wind

palette of butterflies

golden hour

the shuffled-card memory

flipped through photos

the month passed

_______________________________________________________________

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)

This is the first of three poems to be presented here by James.