Rolling Acres Mall
America its malls resemble
the undead remains of capitalism
lavish this grapefruit la croix bubbled
to surface what cannot be informal
in which excessive in scale retail
hoarded droves for holiday appetites
deep the gullets of frogs we leapt
to feast and could not stop
Nonlinear
seeing you on the sidewalk today
selling art we
will see each other
sunday–
the nonlinear
wish (see / wave)
in one spatial dimension:
am i the imaginary unit?
wish: the angular frequency;
reality: the second derivative;
trust: the constant
of nonlinearity, the wobble
in my cool compared
to ego, mine and yours,
submerged but ever-rising
(wild arctic
waters– your sister
present we were not ready)
it is noon with morning
fog still in sight, wisp
of orange the sun, its peel, trick
of flood dissipating on the busy
avenue of weeds, squished
bugs, optical solitude
the alternative media,
the blocks in our patterns
imagining plasma waves in plasmas
in you and in me and in you and in me.
trying to impress you
Through the prism of stained glass,
you, a feline, pounce on the world,
a predator’s purr echoing in the air.
I, a butterfly, fluttering, a painter
with mustard splotches on the window,
declaring it art. I present it to you,
and your eyes– honeybee– catch
the light.
About the Author
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, USA. (jamescroaljackson.com)
