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Jack Henry  (email, website, blog, MySpace)


About the Poet:

Jack Henry, writer/poet/playwright/musician lives on a small suburban farm just beyond the reach of Los Angeles.  He writes about the vagaries of life, love lost, death and the search for resolution.  Recently, his chapbook "chasing screaming monkeys w/o any clothes" received a favorable review by david mclean at clockwise cat, issue 9. 

Some of his work has been published in cause & effect, cp journal, off beat pulp, instant pussy vol 1 & 3 & 5, phantom seed, gloom cupboard, skitzo lit, static movement, red fez, “the”, eviscerator heaven, oak bend review and winamop.  Forthcoming in:  cc&d, decomP, and clockwise cat.   He has also been published in gloom cupboard where he also writes a monthly column.

So. Jersey

long empty roads across
green fields, dense forests
filled with old homes
that sit silent at
the edge of a road

bounce along flowing w/
traffic, mosquitoes slam
against windshields
endless cigarettes kill

perfect serenity at each
mile marker i pass
almost forgetting foreclosed
homes, boarded up businesses
and people laughing through

bars fill w/locals, welcome
me like heaven, just like my home
we fight misery one mile
marker at a time

Lincoln Memorial

in the distance
    the capital dome sits
    under hazy skies
  but i can see it - clear

i wonder if senators &
congressman see the
Lincoln memorial
or any memorial
as they come and go

or the vietnam vet i
gave a pocket full of change
or protestors
sequestered out
of plain view

from up hear, on the
    marble steps, where
  Martin Luther King
    explained his dream
you can see it all
    and when i climb
  back down i will
what i saw

when congress comes
down their steps
out their back door
     into their darkened

i wonder

do they see anything at all

gatekeeper inn

st. peter and his holy smile
  welcomes sinners salvation
from thickening skies

poets litter in from
various destinations
our words fill the
night w/a temporal bliss

i have no voice,
  no power
i cannot stand equal
w/these giants
  these heroes i know

obliterate, i stand trial, my face
in the corner, but
i took my turn

you can never steal that

there’s beauty in the moment,
a timeless encounter

no return from the fire
now that our souls have
been burned

train riding

train riding
Maryland / DC
clouded windows
fat humidity soaks my shirt
11 am and i am fading
last stop
L’enfant Plaza
i beg for cold beer

trains empty
‘cept me and a few
little blonde w/a fat ass
and a friendly mouth
maybe she’ll
say hello

Japanese tourists laugh
take my picture
i don’t ask why

maybe they need
proof of the ugly
in me, i know
they made a good choice

first kiss blush

first kiss blush
shackles fall
climb stone castle
walls, to stumble
to your arms

recent candid comments
sing soft lines
on parchment, blank
and torn
from discarded bibles

we start anew, a moment
carried by yellow
birds with purple feet

we beg forever
accept this moment
your lips linger
as we breathe as one