How to Listen
I am going to cock my head tonight like a dog in front of McGlinchy's Tavern on Locust; I am going to stand beside the man who works all day combing his thatch of gray hair corkscrewed in every direction. Read rest of poem
(poetry diary 180 -2/16/17.) Still in February/dealing with bronchitis/politics-funk, so I’m a bit in the mood for poems about mindfulness. Jackson’s choice of meditation image is strange and a little haunting, making this a hard-to-forget piece.