Andrew Jacobson Poems

I've sunk into a rut.
Tried writing, tried reading, tried running, tried sleeping.
Whatever I do, I get bored.
My Mom tells me this story of one summer day when I was a little,
...

On a bench in Jerusalem,
a woman with a hijab.

Beside her, a man,
...

Her clever eyes—humorous lips,
words undulating as waves
not of a vast ocean,
but an evening bath-
...

Shackled limbs devoured by
Marine beasts in the
Thunderous waves of
Open sea
...

You sip your coffee,
wave me down.
Polite niceties are exchanged,
oh how things have changed.
...