Bøker av Jacob Johanson

"In Jacob Johanson's latest book of poetry, Billboards inthe Wasteland, two strong poems reach out from themiddle of the book that illuminate Jacob's reckoningwith the legacies of two late masters he admires, KellRobertson and Lew Welch. Sure, they're formidablepresences but their influence has never overwhelmedJacob's journey as a poet. His tributes to them aresubstantial and passionate. Jacob writes from theburial grounds of the Shawnee, the Kansa, the Osage.In one short powerful poem, a haiku almost, Jacobimagines the Lakota admitting the violated spirit ofTamir Rice to their circle. In another poem, he "sawan oncoming storm/divide the desert/into before andafter/just to learn/the importance of now." There arelong drives across an insensate America he assures uswith vibrant, plain-spoken language, that its wreckedand beautiful mythology is still intact, that wastelands are in the eye of the beholder." -John Macker, author of The Blues Drink Your Dreams Away, Selected Poems 1983-2018 and Atlas of Wolves."There's something in the waters of the Kansas / Missouriborders these days, and Jacob Johanson is drinkingfreely of it, which is to our benefit. He is the man ofearly middle age, realizing regrets, well entrenched indaily routine, with lots of time ahead to contemplate.His poems can be read as, "...old constellations on oldstars," familiar territory explored with new eyes. Thereare the women, just out of understanding, to tangowith in minefields. There are the Shawnee sages, aswell as an exchange with our friend the Moon, no sageat all in these pages. Johanson, writing in, "... an era offorgotten atrocities," expresses the fears, hopes, andmemories of those often without a voice. In Billboards,the signs are there for all to see, and to find a kindredspirit."-Cheryl A. Rice, author of Love's Compass"Jacob Johanson's poems are tiny billboards illuminatingthe consciousness of Americans in the early 21st Centurywith quick hit, short lined, revelatory poems full ofhumor, hope and horror. His poems unite the rationaland the surreal. A man finds god on a small square ofpaper that melts on the tongue another is moved towrite by an angel thankful there's enough change onthe dashboard to make it home. Reading Jacobson Ifind myself angry and laughing sometimes simultaneously.For example, open this book to page 27 and read BlowingOut Headspace, Move Along. Despite the craziness ofour culture, he ends the poem with these tender lines:"close your eyes/and you can feel/I promise/ individualblades of grass/pushing between your toes." That'ssoul brothers and sisters. That's soul."-John Knoll, Black Mesa Blues (Spartan Press, 2020)