Jacob Schepers

@jacobschepers.bsky.social

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Poet, Co-Editor of @ballastjournal.bsky.social www.jacobschepers.com www.ballastjournal.com @jacobschepers on the gram

Cover image of ballast issue 4.2. A lake at twilight seen through trees in the foreground. Transparent overlay of fabric pattern over whole image. White text with names of contributors and journal details.
2024 Year in Review for poetry publications—Jacob Schepers. Purple Background with Yellow text and stars/lines. Four issues of ballast published to round out year 2! Two chapbooks released: Connections & Choreography (Bottlecap Press) and Shipwreck Abstracted (Ghost City Press) Poem from The Mantle 21 featured in Verse Daily’s Web Weekly individual Poems in… Broken Lens 6, Harpur Palate 22.2, Greensboro Review 115, Belt Magazine, Jarfly 7, The Shore 22, Red Tree Review 4, Psaltery & Lyre, antiphony 3, SoFloPoJo 35, Trampoline 25.9
Cover image of Jacob Schepers' chapbook Connections & Choreography, out now from Bottlecap Press. Geometric Abstract squares, art in the style of Piet Mondrian in shades of tan, brown, chartreuse, teal, with black text.
Jacob Schepers' poem In Transit, On Hold There is, on highways, tacit agreement that the transit, begrudgingly shared, be of little to no consequence to our getting there. For the most part, we drive to drive, not to make friends or memories or headlines. There are, however, exceptions, as there almost always are: when we pass the inevitable abandoned car on the side of the road, we cannot help speculating its story nor stop flickers of relief that at least the congestion of traffic has abated, if only by one. The suddenness of it all, no matter the frequency, is why we fear the worst. A car’s front end smashed, carrion mangled, a child gathering, like a wasted dandelion, a burned fuse: we can try to shake the feeling there is disordered supervenience to it all, that perhaps had we not just passed by, the accident would not have been, but really there’s no use. There is a contingency in all things to which we too lay claim... (rest of poem available at Frigg's website).