Artwork by Icaruvs Illustrations
A bad dream on an airplane when I am awake –
I am waking, walking in pink periwinkle swamp.
I am waking, walking with weights on my left ankle.
and I step through,
past bushes like clouds,
sticky and slow,
and a moon struck by lightning,
against blue sky,
I think how strange it is to see the moon and the sky lit at once by the same sun,
And I am lethargic and think how strange it is to see the moon and sky lit at once by the same sun.
I am waking, walking,
and the moon is laughing,
because the bushes were in fact clouds.
Even in dreams I can’t walk among clouds.
I am waking, walking
and the moon is laughing with silver teeth,
and the sun is setting golden, pink periwinkle
far, far, far away,
screaming beneath the swamp,
because Earth has called me back to the dirt.
Sometimes I sit –
Sometimes I sit, and think, that nothing is wrong.
I wake up,
I cough only a little bit, I eat something, I shit, I drink some water.
Some coffee maybe,
maybe I’ll walk a bit.
I don’t want a beer right now.
I’ll shit again
And drink some water.
And maybe I’ll even go dance at night,
Or finish a book, or watch a good movie.
Or I just sit, and think, that nothing is wrong,
and for that moment,
a few words for you and L. Cohen -
I can't stop thinking about Leonard Cohen today. And listening to you. Or listening to Leonard Cohen and thinking of you. I
wish I could find a way to repay you. It must be worth a currency I haven't found yet.
I'm so happy with the person you've made me be.
I'm unsure of how to tell you. I’m saying I too often and my eye is starting to itch. But I love you and I
think L. Cohen would too.
The first time I read Proust –
The first time I read Proust
It’s a booth in a diner,
A once-great American city
Defiled, under blue, fluorescent blue,
Over piles of pig pieces,
Under eggs and over sweet breads.
Finally awaking for the evening,
Coffee and blue fluorescence:
Condemning Proust eternally.
America’s Got Cancer! on the television.
I’m watching now.
I am happy now.
In blue, fluorescent blue
The first time I read Proust -
I call 1-800-AGC-VOTE
a note: the poems here are from a collection called:
“A linoleum tile confession/Songs for when I’m delirium tremens sick”
Jack will happily mail you a full copy of the collection if you would like.
Email him at firstname.lastname@example.org
Jack Nancy was born and raised in San Francisco before moving to Montana to learn how to wash dishes and get beat up by hippies. He now splits his time between Hudson, New York and New York City. He likes to write poems and short fiction. Sometimes he tags along with a musical group called Basura at the Bait & Tackle. The Bait & Tackle is now closed. Jack is trying to move to Mexico City at some point in the near future.