Richard Jackson

RIONE SANT’ANGELO, OUTSIDELA TAVERNA DEL GHETTO IN ROME   Halos of mist wrap around the streetlights.Every sound is pocketed. Birds who...
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Richard Jackson’s Photo Poems (II)

The wall was always within us. We have to write it / until it opens.

Re: Word: Richard Jackson

I should have begun with that warning sound, / I should have begun when the sun crossed the town of Houla, / Syria, brushing the bodies of the massacred children. They look / like carefully wrapped cocoons. // Here, time slips down / the side of a building as if it were only a shadow.

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