jacob vincent
rewind
eleventh hour between billboards power outage morning pages
I bet you didn’t see the signs. We’re all just passing by.
rewind
It’s not just the changing of seasons. It was written on the walls.
The vanished years and all.
In the garage, a bicycle turned to rust And dust covered records, Coughing into lengths of a sweater. Because nothing truly moved.
The set’s loose screws.
The dollhouse was shown to need minor fixes. My childhood productions laid to rest on VHS.
Rewind. It comes back in time.
Rocking chair, I couldn’t sleep. Anything to get you close to me.
State magnets and refrigerator lights.
Spraying Sprite and dining table fights. Pictures of me before I harbored tricks
Was the last of un-suffocation.
Now memories pass my chest cavity
As the only embers of faith.
Waiting until the day I’m jolted to the flare I want to feel it everywhere.
eleventh hour
A treasure like a candle flame, To fortunately feature reflection in my eyes. He turned away blushing, trading stories of childhood. This eleventh hour fall. Nothing is settled here.
Nervous by nature, always biting to the quick. Born into almost-always colder weather. I assume no one will ever come close enough.
Been listening to Andy Shauf For momentary reprise.
Miles and time
Don’t fall to this side.
So I’ve been listening Ever since he showed me.
I’ve tried digging up the Fender.
Chords and pages on whoever I’m supposed to be. That’s why I belt, Everything means nothing to me.
Days later, I’m pressing into the keys. He’s contemplating what to do with me. Frightened at what could be.
I’d turn to tragedy so easily. I know I won’t retreat.
Placing a pen to page Seemingly just in fiction.
Storying manifestations in between the silence. I’m losing track of the time.
Leaves fall, morning frost on the roof. Alchemize my nothing news. Half past ten. Just tell me the truth.
Don’t cut this one short.
between billboards
1.
Byways of the cities I traversed, I found the passages hollow-eyed.
Coming in and out from dusted brevity
Only to capture moments that forced my grin. To an incessant degree, I played thee Whoever you want me to be. I caught split glances, windstorms, and second chances. It was billboards. Like…I made some advances. When I had braved a speech, an effort to speak, How did you not see?
2.
We have come undone to unforeseen And small to thee upper-handed. The comets burst onto the page as beaconed embers. But even hope can’t stand to stay, it’s fleeting by the day. Biting at the cage, for a touch of the opulent. Staring down glitterati circles.
Ending in an everlasting violet shade of purple. Knowing only harm and the distance of maybe. Another shade, another fight, absent of any light, It was billboards.
Election night.
3.
How might we boat?
And force trails beyond the wreck Hand pressed on the deck
As if the necks of innocence weren’t enough. It seems heights of the bluff are fogged if not jagged, Tagged in mercurial red graffiti.
between billboards
4.
It was billboards the way it headlined. San Vicente, the lights, feeling a heavy hunch
A warning bright red traffic light. Deadpan staring into a fading gray.
I know you’re cold too. We’re both prescribed to doses of blue
A moonlight in wading darkness
Or so I believed, even assumed. I thought you knew it too.
5.
I see Her in everything. Letters of sacrificial allegiance, I would die trying on the highlands. Sword to all the violent agents
Hoping they fade into
An oblivion of nothing
At the chains of their reign
After all, power conjures pain. One day. One day.
6.
Whispers won’t weigh the warnings. Right turn at the crash. Left blind to the past. Too anxious to admit the truth. We all know where it’s headed. Match to light, a candle of grief. It’s turned trivial, then just unseen.
7.
This isn’t helping. And there’s just no chance in convincing Someone who is barely there. You see, I tried.
Vying for the last word,
As if the end possessed more turns. Then why does it have to matter?
Fuck, let’s just close this chapter.
power outage
He landed on my doorstep in the middle of the night. The shade of the lamp light just turned on its head, Watched as in my bed, I vow heaven’s in sedation.
To no wake, I wouldn’t need a goodbye
From an always disguised, horror in phantom reverie. He found it just to taunt the past, seeing how I’d react. I swear he knew I was coming back from getting lost
And just like that the power went out. I’m crawling, trembling, waiting to shout.
Finally found a flicker to a crepuscular glow,
A path with a crow taking to my own.
In my house, too numb to astound
But searching for what's still on the table
And maybe who is still fit to seat.
morning pages
Tearing off my morning pages
As if dust could write a better introduction. With no interruption or outline to source, Full of wrinkled leaves and utter remorse.
Then comes a reflection in shrink, One tug off my sleeves.
I’m writing my dreams from this meadowed heath
As if I would settle for peace. The river only rushes in times of grievance
And it’s been a mourning rivulet.
It’s nothing short of a violent gale.
Spare me the ice, dripping on the New York Times.
Rider in three tries, puzzles and journals couldn’t quell my sigh.
Morning pages are sticking to meditation.
I’m scanning star-studded panoramic hills to climb. In the horizon, faraway futures aren’t set in stone.
Throwing trust into the eye of the storm.
thank you!
joe nasta
gabby tortorich makena merrifield
This fall I decided to take a break in between projects to just exist. This allowed me the space to reflect and get back to writing as self-restoration. I landed with a short collection on perspective and potential. I imagined signs we are all passing by, sometimes willingly unseen. I can’t say this led to resolution, as I remain uncertain. This is the restless rhythm of moving forward.”
thank you!
xoxo, jacob