And the Old Ways Die

Finally a break in the waves

and the old ways die.

No art must always

surface in the tragic

but in the emotion

in the raw and

its reality to the 

observers situation.

What phenomena, the

   fact we observe,

where in this neural web

and drowned cave is

this observer,

where indeed?

I want to shake their hand.


Published by James J Jackson

I'm a poet from California.

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