“A coat of ashes” launch, 4 May 2019, Perth Poetry Club

Book cover, 'A coat of ashes' by JacksonLaunched by
ANNAMARIA WELDON

Readers:
SANNA PEDEN
ELIO NOVELLO
JACKSON in sound & spirit

MC: CHRISTINE DELLA VEDOVA­

Plus open mike­
Pizzas afterwards

Sales at the launch will be Pay As You Feel

2pm at The Moon Cafe, 323 William Street, Northbridge
Enquiries: perthpoetryclub at gmail dot com

Can’t come? Get it online for only AUD$12.95 at recentworkpress.com

The pure tone
     of each electron
The pure functions
The math inside the atom
The muscles connecting
     the trunk to the legs
The tendons connecting
     the moon to the earth
The ligaments connecting
     the brain to the bones
A blanket,
A coat of ashes

This collection traverses science and spirituality, philosophy and matter. Drawing from physics, systems theory, Daoism and more, it contemplates profound questions about our place within a world of being. With deft silences and fine observations, these poems explore both modern and ancient paths to knowledge, seeking to ‘fully apprehend nature, including our fellow beings, and foster a reverent respect for it’. (Publisher’s description)

‘This collection, richly suffused with a personal metaphysics, delicately balances the most crucial aspects of being on a bridge between dark and light. One feels that the words in A coat of ashes might be written and received on the skin.’
— Dominique Hecq

‘Jackson’s work is both original and rooted in a number of poetic traditions, which it deftly fuses. The poems in A coat of ashes are beautifully composed, coherent and crystalline. This rich, creative work makes a genuine contribution to contemporary poetry.’
— Fiona Sampson MBE FRSL

Stupider and stupider

The White Rabbit scurried past
I’m late I’m late I’m late and she had
to follow him why? I hated
the story it went nowhere stupider
and stupider creepy
smoking caterpillar vicious
Queen of Hearts horrible
pigbaby and I only
six what to make of it? and
at the end the letdown
it was all a dream
so lame
she woke up
back in Victorian England
instead of sorting herself out
instead of escaping
from that hell-pit
by her own wits
like a proper heroine
she just
woke up
lying among the whatever
daisies butterflies
in her pinafore
in her alice band
in her prim little shoes
with her big sister close by
and no deranged
dealers of millinery no
melancholy reptiles no
lakes of tears no
pointlessly battling
rotund little men
I hated the whole story

except for the Cheshire Cat who
seemed the only one who
had it together

First published in LiNQ 43, Feb 2017