Memories of a Former Sooth


Trademark fits,

memories of a former sooth

resting on the tranquil wall.

Watched swoon in

tension of an 

American past.

Stanza and colorful report

of what ends its relevance

in the stakes 

of bursted bubbles.

No golden age,

all millions lost

so in crop

and trapped.

Trapped and rooted and 

pumped in band

and another word needlessly twisted.

This is no word,

and it doesn’t matter anymore.


Published by James J Jackson

I'm a poet from California.

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