Broken Horizons

In Broken Horizons, Richard Jackson¿s lines are clouds of love, piercing the sky with enormous empathy, rolling in the azure, torrents of passion, and are arrows at the same time, reaching a peak where they break, crying, cleansing the air, becoming ether. It is impossible to describe this in discursive language. With a melody that is unmistakably his own . . . he is a kind of Scorsese in poetry, but where Scorsese almost succeeds in his films, then stops, seals and terrifies us, Jackson adds a tender, vulnerable voice that blossoms and transforms us, and that is so unique and great, great in its truest sense in Richard Jackson¿s poetry. ¿Toma¿ ¿alamun