Volume 2, No. 2
Spring, 2003

Notice about the next issue


About Jack Magazine

Kevin Opstedal: Rare Surf, Vol. 2

Jnana Hodson: Where Space Upends

Stacy Elaine Dacheux: Marcel and Duchamp
Ben Marcus: The Montana Sons, The Getting of Wisdom on Montana's Big Hole River
Anthony Wright: Dada Rides Zen

Vladik Cervantes: American Hospital
Jen Cullerton: Splits
Tom Sanders: Operation Fishhook
Neil Smith: Sustenance
D. Harlan Wilson: Avalanche of My Self
Anthony Wright: Bad America

Tucker Marolf: Path thru Pathos: A Homoerotic Journey Through the Rants of a Weiner Kid

Terri Carrion: Night Surf
Colin Dodds: Someone Else's Heaven, Cartoons in his Will, Later Civilization, Plundered Truths, Left Over from a Recent Death, Stare into My Mouth, Not Built for Wisdom
Rich Furman: Awakening, Jazz After Masturbation, Mock the Midnight Bell, And, Saved
Jack Galmitz: Queens County Morning
Candy M. Gourlay: Days of Cloth, Glass Garbage, Cement Stars and Pin Oaks
Hammond Guthrie: In a Moment's Time
Jayne Fenton Keane: litmus, a father's re-write, shapeshifter
Corey Mesler: A Poem for Frank O'Hara, Richard Brautigan: Requiescat in Pace, The Day John Lennon Died
Sheila Murphy: Third Aesthetic, Freehand, Green Tea, Bless East, Marlene Marlene, Seven Lines
Aidan Semmens: Wave, A Rolling Motion, By the River, A Letter to America
Jayne Lyn Stahl: On Waite Street, White Light for Sally
Carolyn Welch: Sugar Shack
Anthony Wright: Beat Underworlds, New York Funeral Song

Surfrider Foundation News & Laguna Beach Photo-Collection

Ben Marcus: The Price of Gas

Allan Graubard:
The Dyn of Wolfgang Paalen
Mary Sands: The Cramps, Galaxy Theatre

Mary Sands: California Trip, 1997

Márton Koppány: Investigations and Valuable Coupons

Letters to the Editor

New Cove, by Matt Scott

Editor: Mary Sands
Contributing Editor: Michael Rothenberg
Featured Artist: Matt Scott
Featured Poet: Kevin Opstedal
Photographers: Pamela Dewey,
John Gein, and Mary Sands

Heading Out, by Matt Scott

And now to the particular physics of surf-riding. Get out on a flat board, six feet long, two feet wide, and roughly oval in shape. Lie down upon it like a child on a coaster and paddle with your hands out to deep water, where the waves begin to crest. Lie out there quietly on the board. Sea after sea breaks before, behind, and under and over you, and rushes in to shore, leaving you behind. When a wave crests, it gets steeper. Imagine yourself, on your board, on the face of that steep slope. If it stood still, you would slide down just as a child slides down a hill on his or her coaster. "But,'' you object, "the wave doesn't stand still.'' Very true, but the water composing the wave stands still, and there you have the secret. If ever you start sliding down the face of that wave, you'll keep on sliding and you'll never reach the bottom. Please don't laugh.

--Jack London, from The Cruise of the Snark, 1911

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