Mark C. Jackson : Writing

I woke up in the wrong church

I woke up in the wrong church

A Poem by Mark C. Jackson


just a little something
she sings the lonesome wind to sleep

she sings the lonesome wind to sleep

A Poem by Mark C. Jackson


written for a friend
some folks

some folks

A Poem by Mark C. Jackson


third poem I ever wrote . . .
kill bukowski

kill bukowski

A Poem by Mark C. Jackson


I hate the dirty old man and his mirror words page after page drink after drink f**k after f**k tale after tale from the life of an ordinary man,..
tango canyenue

tango canyenue

A Poem by Mark C. Jackson


for your pleasure . . .
through snowy mountain passes

through snowy mountain passes

A Poem by Mark C. Jackson


a poetic perspective . . .
written by ghost hand and murmur

written by ghost hand and murmur

A Poem by Mark C. Jackson


no matter how we write, what we write may stay with us forever . . .
new warrior

new warrior

A Poem by Mark C. Jackson


How did we begin to use weapons?
old miller

old miller

A Poem by Mark C. Jackson


a friend was describing how she cried at the end of Old Yeller (didn't we all) and I thought she said "old miller". Well, I wrote it down and a few da..