ISSN 1551-8086
return to home search for a contributing writer

seach for poems by title

archive of previous issues submissions information mailing list online store links to other interesting sites contact us  
  April 2019
volume 16 number 1
-table of contents-
 
  home  
 
  contributing poets
  Michelle Angelini
  luis cuauhtemoc berriozabal
  Jack G. Bowman
  Lynne Bronstein
  Deborah Edler Brown
  Anna Cates
  Beverly M. Collins
  Chella Courington
  David Flynn
  Paul Hellweg
  Glenn Ingersoll
  Scott C. Kaestner
  lalo kikiriki
  John Leonard
  Cynthia Linville
  Marieta Maglas
  Xavier McIves
  Scott Thomas Outlar
  bc petrakos
  Diana Rosen
  Walter Ruhlmann
  David Scriven
  Megha Sood
  Terrence Sykes
  Perry Terrell
  Tim Tipton
  Davide Trame
  Roman Tunkel
 
  home
  poets
  poems
  archive
  submissions
  mailing list
  store
  links
  contact
   
Jack G. Bowman
April 2019
   

 

bio


Madame Aperture

    Jack was born to a workin' class family in southwestern Ohio, but soon moved to southern California where he lives today. Changes in subculture as well as the 'spirit of the times' affected his writing and philosophy. He graduated from California State Polytechnic University in Pomona in 1986 with a Bachelor of Arts in Behavioral Science. He graduated from Pacific Oaks College in Pasadena with a Master of Arts in Marriage, Family and Child Counseling in 1997.
His work in the mental health field since 1984, as well as his own bizarre life experiences, figure prominently in his poetry, art, songs and prose. Jack is a licensed Psychotherapist in the Los Angeles area.
    He has been a published poet since 1991. Approximately 500 of his poems have been displayed in small presses, anthologies, and on the internet. He has self-published 12 books of poetry.
Jack's website

   

 

His Sunday Self

Frank stops for a second,
looks into the bathroom mirror,
he sees an amalgam of images
faces of other men blended into his own;
his father, his brothers and finally himself
a worn worker man, scraggly,
near the end of his ride

he strides out to find the pieces of himself
lost in a dusty scrapbook,
faded and to those close by,
no longer valid

he makes his attempts;
they are, by most standards
mediocre at best

he longs for another image of himself,
one he recognizes,
but it is not there
only the aged man
with his dreams

still attached.

copyright 2019 Jack G. Bowman