Helms Jackson is a memory of a 20-something who existed for a brief period with his guard completely down, his senses at full blast and some sort of abstract magnet piecing together tangents from across the universe.

His paper’s were found recently in an antique escritoire set out by the roadside for the garbage man.

Artistic license is at play and may violate the time-space continuum from time to time.

The author is a North Carolina native educated in public schools and state universities.

Contact him at hjpoetry AT gmail DOT com.


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