De Jackson wanted to be a PoetPiratePrincess when she grew up, but is slowly settling into the role
of mom/freelance writer. She writes advertising copy, runs gleefully with scissors and plays
well with poems...when she can coax her mermaid muse onto dry land. She scribbles something daily
Trace that filament on the horizon, the bleed of all we are, uncontainable.
The day is tumbling loose from this scarlet sky, and I
am filled, spilled, fallen too – in, out
of will, grace, time. Please:
hold these breaths,