Jacklantic

Steady

Mon, 13 Jul 2026 20:40:00 GMT

And now? It’s all for you, and there's nothing more I'd rather give or thing I'd rather do, for if everything’s all I've ever wanted, and if everything is you, I'd sooner snuff a thousand suns than lose the light we grew.

So stopper all your flickers that wreak havoc with the lens, my little light she radiates and hands me back my pens; like a steady stream of sunlight that knows not of how or when it ever came to be the night forgot that it could end.

So that this life could be mine

Tue, 07 Jul 2026 20:39:59 GMT

They sat right where they stood, not crumpling, but grounding a moment, to savor the songs of a late artist who sang of wildflowers and of falling, live in concert, in a different life when they too had life yet left to give.

Her concentration on the performance matched only by my attempt to capture this; my wife, my daughter, on the kitchen floor, reliving music of yesteryear; a life left behind so this could be mine.

What will be the legacy?

Fri, 12 Dec 2025 04:20:00 GMT

Remind me who I am on days that wear me down to beaten stubs; reducing me to work unpaid or drink alone instead of pubs.

It's in that moment before I reach for hardware or glassware, just take my hands and tell me you understand why each feel intrinsic to my growing brand,

but need not, and should not, and cannot ensue if I want to be remembered for the art I pursued, not the business, the indulgence; get back to what's true! Remind me my legacy's in all that I do.

Give me a promise

Tue, 09 Dec 2025 13:46:00 GMT

Give me a promise that I could never break and take from me the freedom to repel the make-believe I held to be true, until you; had I knew that sacrifice to save your life is no price at all for how I'd fall and fall and fall on every sword to see you from the blade. How could I have known to 'die for you' was not a promise to step before the shot, but how I could not live if I did not.

Find Me

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 04:30:00 GMT

Find me. For once let the breadcrumbs be enough, let my heat unhide me through the walls, and my passive passion wreak on the breeze. Find me, a festering mess of promises, a stale sense of self-grandeur now hard enough to beat at anything that even dares reconstitution. Leave me. I feed on the friction this contradiction supplies. But I still need you to find me. I love it when you try.

LOOM

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 04:28:00 GMT

Long have I awaited the tapestry to loom Over me as mountains own they valley with their peaks; Opening my mouth to taste the river through the flowers; Measuring the moments by the thickness of their hours.

Not a word

Thu, 27 Feb 2025 04:35:00 GMT

"Not a word." I said, re-entering the bar I'd avoided for months, anticipating gasps and murmurs from patrons at my reappearance (as if anybody here actually cared that much about my return - or even knew that I'd been gone). I beelined for my familiar seat, adopted my familiar posture, and hoped to god I wasn't going to be put through the embarrassment of having to order my familiar drink. "Don't make me ask for it." I groaned. "For what?" she said, flatly. She was pissed. I knew it. Did I mention it had been months? I was a stranger on my home turf. How is it that I no longer belong in this scene? Why can't I just get fucked up like before? Does that allure of self-destruction now desert me? So, what…now I just have to live soberly with all my raging thirst? "Just give me the usual." I said, unconvincingly. "Oh honey," she replied, pitifully, "it doesn't work like that anymore." No. I thought. I don't suppose it does.

Eternal

Tue, 31 Dec 2024 04:37:00 GMT

And even when it's just you and me at a dinner in the city, it's never just us anymore, is it? Just as you were never alone those 271 days, even all by yourself in that hotel room on a business trip; we're forever pregnant with our parenthood. We carry her eternally.

Frozen

Fri, 06 Dec 2024 16:16:00 GMT

Can’t you feel the cold magic? Bitter air, but bundled up in puffer coats and chunky boots, clasping hot drinks with icy hands, pulling off gloves to feel the heat on our fingers, or to pick at roasted chestnuts, unwinding scarves from our necks as we enter cafes, disassembling and reassembling on repeat, store to store, the sharp trajectory of everyone’s travel, no dilly-dallying, no sauntering, no stopping for selfies, we have places to be, coffee to acquire, trains to catch, and we share in this frigid, collective experience, and we love it.

The crisp clatter of our winter city, simultaneously so uninviting and yet never feeling more like belonging to us; it is our resilient, steely tool, somehow at its most festive when frozen.

~ New York City

Materialized

Sat, 23 Nov 2024 14:52:00 GMT

I’m surrounded by fabrics; a mattress cover for my daughter’s crib, draped and drying, its elastic bunching the soft pink creases into theatre curtains, her sleep sack alongside, fully unzipped like a butterflied filet of chicken, fluffy white beds on each level of the cat tree, a silky thermal blanket nested on one, cotton diapers tightly packed and ready for our upcoming trip, baskets of clean, folded clothes to follow suit, a half-donut nursing pillow on the floor beside the throw pillows, beside the bed from where they’re thrown every night, these spa-grade sheets, the decorative, tasseled blanket at my feet, the quilted pillowcase propped behind my back, and the buttery sleep shorts against my skin.

There are more fabrics to speak of in this pile-up of a pre-trip transitional state, but it’s not messy or overwhelming, it adorns every corner of space and renders them cosy; lived-in, personal, in tousled relaxation.

I could reach out in any direction and wrap around me our very life; materialized.

We’re all winners

Sun, 17 Nov 2024 17:29:00 GMT

Does everybody feel they won? As if secretly knowing they got the best, despite objective evidence or quirks to the contrary, this combination of characteristics remains unbeatable; far better than you could have ever imagined, far more intricately-unique than you could have ever conceived.

These eyes, those laughs, that smile, this love.

In every space I’ll carve your name

Thu, 07 Nov 2024 03:14:00 GMT

I do not mourn for yesterday’s version of you (it is not lost, it’s in my soul); every day grown is another engraving, and every day to come I bare an open face so you can etch upon me your uniqueness.

I do not mourn how you’ve already grown, I fear the idea of missing out on your marking, not being present for your latest impressions, or the day I run out of empty plates.

What I write of you today

Fri, 01 Nov 2024 02:10:00 GMT

October 31, 2024 What I write of you today may not be there come tomorrow…

November 1, 2024 and when the morning came, you couldn’t leave your bed, no strength to even lift your head

so whatever I may have written feels far too late to act upon. You were our permanent little kitten, but now those words (and you) are gone.

Companion to your eulogy

Wed, 30 Oct 2024 02:04:00 GMT

I dim the lights when evening nears to quieten the busy air, and settle in till all is clear of dust; like death we’ve come to wear.

Recuperating in the dark - if only this would do the trick for you, to reignite your spark (for some of what you eat to stick).

It must have been so bright and loud (we tried everything in hope to heal), but we were always wowed and proud of your resilience and zeal.

And here you are, curled in my lap, a blanket draped across my knees, another poem in your cap; companion to your eulogies.

It’s quiet now. Each breath we share helps settle us of any fears, of dust-to-dust; this cross we’ll bear, and dim the lights when evening nears.

RIP to Nyx, our permanent kitten (November 1, 2024)

Is it time?

Fri, 25 Oct 2024 20:34:00 GMT

When there are no more better days, it’s time that we part ways.

Tougher times can be endured, but they’re fueled by joy, which slowly fades when there are no more better days.

Each intervention, we felt assured, pursued every avenue so they wouldn’t say it’s time that we part ways.

It’s hard to observe a slow decline, but there’s little left of this rose-tinted haze when there are no more better days.

This isn’t the recovery that we designed. When the pain is no longer a temporary phase, it’s time that we part ways.

For every tender moment more, there’s a price your body pays. When there are no more better days, it’s time that we part ways.

—

Our poor little Nyxie, really going through it.

Show up

Thu, 24 Oct 2024 02:40:00 GMT

Colliding with the grass, at last I know that I’m in the game! With every fast and cross-field pass, we stake a dominant claim, and of course we were forced to dig deep and source an elevated style of play; a man down, but still found net-busters abound. Four-to-nothing. When we show up, we slay!

Atom

Tue, 22 Oct 2024 12:50:00 GMT

The moments fold upon themselves, collapsing days into dime-sized squares, tucked into pockets with all the loose change that once resembled valuable hours; even those that dragged and would not end, can’t escape the gravity of the hungry night. Black holes mark the exit of every day; my whole life but the width of an atom.

I hesitate to say I’m cured

Fri, 18 Oct 2024 12:51:00 GMT

I hesitate to say I’m cured… but what little hold of vice remains in moments that are normally endured only by pandering to my virtue’s disdains.

Am I too busy? Too tired, or content to engage with all I used to desire? Is this what they call ‘duty’? Or will I come to resent letting the heat finally die from my fire?

In caring, in loving, in the learning of you, there’s simply no room for transgression. All the bottles are stoppered, and my heart feels renewed, leaning in to this healthy obsession.

Nine Lives

Mon, 14 Oct 2024 01:19:00 GMT

It was nice to wear a flannel shirt, and appreciate the rain, in homage to a man who loved the outdoors; from far and wide we came.

The summer before my daughter was born, I’d leapt from my chair to the stairs to help the bike rider, the kayaker, the hunter, who’d faltered halfway and despaired,

“Here’s a tip,” he said, “never get old.” Recalling each of his cat-like nine lives. Now gathering with grandchildren he’ll not get to hold, we share stories so his memory survives.

Forecast

Tue, 08 Oct 2024 18:25:57 GMT

I used to cling to every hour, squeeze every drop from every day, resisting sleep with all my power, as if it held the sun at bay; as if to stave off my decay.

Believing sleep a waste of time, I searched the nights for lights within. Where now I take to bed and prime my lines for days I crave begin; I lean on back, and draw them in.

Time will pass

Thu, 03 Oct 2024 18:23:00 GMT

Get it done, or put it off, try it out, or shy away, pursue a dream, or watch TV, regardlessly, time will pass.

Recognize, or disregard, brush it off, or shake with fear, you can pay it no attention, or give it every time of day,

it does not matter what you do or do not do, it does not matter if you care or do not care,

so you may as well do something cos this life ain’t built to last, and the only thing we know of it is time will pass. Time will pass.

to the brim

Mon, 02 Sep 2024 18:25:00 GMT

Everything hurts a little more. Movies and TV shows depicting harm to children have become unbearable; that suffering superimposes on the image of my own child, now, and I long to run upstairs and rouse her from sleep, my eyes wide open and ready like deep, empty wells, ready to have every second of every experience with her poured into them; and perhaps that’s why I keep crying, because I am constantly full-to-the-brim and overflowing with ‘you’.

The long thread

Tue, 27 Aug 2024 18:22:00 GMT

The long thread must continue in the background. Your underlying endeavors silently achieving, even as your family duties take center-stage (as well they should), but all the while, your projects progress; the long thread pulls, it draws success.

Not present

Thu, 15 Aug 2024 18:21:00 GMT

I feel like a ghost.

When you’re sick, everyone says they don’t blame you, but it cannot relieve the heavy burden - the viral load - that inescapably weighs upon you - within you.

I can be present, but I can’t get too close, I can’t hold my baby or kiss my wife, I daren’t even open my mouth to speak for risk of sharing more than words. So I am mute, out-of-reach, untouchable, unable to support my family, unwilling to cheer up or smile, as requested, for I am a ghost. I am good only for haunting.

Beach house vacation

Tue, 13 Aug 2024 21:58:00 GMT

Beach house vacation

What does creativity mean to you?

Sat, 15 Jun 2024 18:19:00 GMT

Creativity is therapy, self-discovery, a way to reduce your thoughts like a sauce in a pan, till all you’re left with is a concentrated, thick syrup, preserved and bottled, but on canvases, notebooks, and diner napkins.

The greatest effect that creativity has on my life is not in its existence, but in its dire absence; my heart and mind speaks to me in riddles that only creativity can help decipher, so without it, I am awash with tangles and short tempers, until at last the tantrums drive me to write, play, sing, or simply express aloud, my volcanic eruption of unsolidified self careening down my cheeks and leaving scars on my face (and grey hairs on my head).

Better that I indulge the creativity, more for what it helps relieve, than for what it helps provide.

Shattered

Wed, 12 Jun 2024 18:18:00 GMT

In reaction to reading ‘The Glass and the Bowl’ by Louise Edrich in a poetry book Ashley had gifted me.

—

You made me cry on my birthday, and really, it was the best gift. That kind of cry where you hold your breath because you just know the moment you open your mouth more unfiltered emotion will escape from your eyes and rock your words.

It hit me a little. Then it hit me a lot. And I kept re-reading the poem to see if it would lessen, or if I could better come to terms with it, but I could not overlook its subtle power; the way it reduced me to uncontrollable tears, I know it’s because underneath all the desperate levels of sadness there is an infinite well of love that will never, ever dry up.

And so these tears will never, ever dry up. I went to sit with you during her midnight feed, to see if that might settle me. Then her tiny hands wrapped around my finger, and I lost it all over again.

I remember on Sundays

Mon, 03 Jun 2024 18:16:00 GMT

On Sundays, I remember.

It was one of the few days he could have had to himself.

But without fail we’d drive to Rowland’s Castle, for surely just another pulled muscle or skewed finish.

Be it the bitter cold, or an utter downpours, I’d arrive with the discipline of polished boots,

and leave with them caked in mud, clapping them together sending echoes through the car park before climbing into his Beemer, roaring home through country lanes, Guns N’ Roses blaring,

and upon arriving home, I'd clean my boots again to the ker-ching of a 'Radio 5 Live' gameshow as he spent the next few hours preparing a feast,

then we’d sit at the table (Elbows off. Backs straight.) and I’d ding my knife on the roast potatoes to test the integrity of their crispiness, refueling my body with as much sausage stuffing as I were permitted.

I understand better now that these weren’t sacrifices (the many things he did for us),

they were the things that made him happy.

Updated on March 6, 2026 for Dad’s funeral

tiny trials

Fri, 26 Apr 2024 18:16:00 GMT

I'll never forget those early days, the bi-hourly feeds, the tiny trials, the early reward of Summer's smiles, and the love that we grew in a million ways.

Now and forever

Fri, 26 Apr 2024 18:13:00 GMT

You have always been great at games... but never was it as plain to see as when (and how easily) you took to this, a game amiss of definite rules and well-worn tools in need of revision, but never clouded your vision of how you would raise her. You selected, appraised, and collated the ways, developing a motherhood manual of your own, through courses and the instincts that stirred in your belly, perspectives renewed and a model for many of willpower, and gusto, and inspirational poise; determined to set yourself up for success, and when the time came to push you gave it all. Nothing less.

In a way, that was all expected. You're the strongest woman I know (by far); this challenge would never rock you. But in another way, you entirely surpassed even the strongest of our estimations, revealing the mother I always knew was deep in the heart of you.

Happy first mother's day, you beautiful soul. Once again, you've excelled and amazed. You're a natural, you're incredible, you're a love to behold, you're a mother, now, and for all of your days.

Louie

Sat, 20 Apr 2024 21:58:00 GMT

Louie

Aggressive Saturation

Fri, 05 Apr 2024 21:56:00 GMT

Keukenhof

Yellow lollipop

Fri, 05 Apr 2024 21:54:00 GMT

Yellow lollipop

Kisses for my darling

Sun, 18 Feb 2024 22:55:00 GMT

Kisses for my darling

Forever inaugural

Tue, 13 Feb 2024 19:12:00 GMT

Not every day will be like this. You can’t rely on this temporary serene that comes of not poisoning or hampering your soul, for the slow and boring days will come again and again and again, and only then will you know if the lesson has been learnt and burnt into the habits of your new way of being.

It is pain to be forever inaugural, never celebrating the anniversary of being renewed.

Burrito bed

Tue, 16 Jan 2024 22:52:00 GMT

Burrito bed

Under the bridge downtown

Thu, 11 Jan 2024 22:52:00 GMT

Under the bridge downtown

Welcome to the jungle

Thu, 11 Jan 2024 22:51:00 GMT

Welcome to the jungle

Austin Riverbank

Thu, 11 Jan 2024 22:49:00 GMT

Austin Riverbank

First smiles

Tue, 09 Jan 2024 22:47:00 GMT

First smiles