Spoon Jackson — Gloria Steinem, the icon who went out of her way to promote the memoir that Judith Tannenbaum and I co-wrote (By Heart).

Gloria Steinem and Judith just happened to be at the same writer’s retreat in Oregon when we were creating By Heart. We had written the manuscript in alternating chapters. Judith had written the first chapter of the memoir, and I had written the second chapter called “Silence.” At the retreat, the women writers met each night to share their work; Judith had no idea Gloria would be there.

The first night of the reading circle, Judith read the first chapter and the group enjoyed it. On the second night of reading, Judith read my chapter, “Silence.” When she looked up, the entire group writers and readers were in tears. Gloria Steinem led the flood, and vowed to help get By Heart out into the world! She wrote me a personal handwritten letter and continued to email Judith ideas about how to publish the book. She even put us in contact with former First Lady and Secretary of State Ms. Hillary Cinton’s agent to advise us. He recommended a small press, because such writing would be lost in a big press. New Village Press became our publisher.

Our publisher was at a function in New York a few years ago, when By Heart had already been out for many, many years. Lynne, who leads the press, spoke to Gloria. It had been over 15 years, but Gloria remembered me and asked about me. Both Gloria and my mentor Judith Tannenbaum have since moved on, and I hope wherever they are they can sit and have tea! Much respect!

Respectfully, Spoon Jackson!

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Spoon would love to receive your letters. Send them here:

Spoon Jackson B-92377 Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility (RJD) E Yard (Level II) 24, A104 lower 480 Alta Rd. San Diego, CA 92179

This past year, Wendy Jason launched JustArts Gallery, a Tulsa-based space dedicated to exhibiting and selling artwork by system-impacted artists (Spoon Jackson among them). JustArts also hosts letter-writing gatherings, artist talks, exhibitions, and opportunities for collaboration between people inside and outside the carceral system. Artists, or their designated loved ones, receive proceeds from the sale of their work, creating opportunities for both artistic recognition and financial support.

At the end of the August, the gallery relocated to a new physical home. Wendy’s vision for the future of the gallery is to expand its reach to bring the artwork of system-impacted artists into conversation with work by local Tulsa artists. This next space will become an even more vibrant hub for exhibitions, creative programming, collaboration, conversation, and community.

Please consider donating to her GoFundMe “Help JustArts Gallery Find a New Home,” which will help cover the cost of renting the new space.

The following testimonials highlight the impact of JustArts Gallery:

Contribute to Wendy’s GoFundMe to help JustArts Gallery cover rent for its new home. Also, check out JustArt Gallery’s website to view artists’ work.

For a book of poetry to be written, let alone be translated into a different language, it takes a network of connections, a shared love of language, and work that truly inspires.

This story begins in San Quentin State Prison, when on a whim, Spoon signed up for a poetry class taught by Judith Tannenbaum. As Spoon puts it, “Judith became my mentor, friend and big sister. I took the classes with no expectations and remained silent in the class for nearly a year! My studies had taught me that it’s better to listen than to speak. In silence, I heard the whispers of the goddesses!

“I was introduced to the artist inside me, one that I did not know existed. At first, I could not believe anyone would want to read anything I wrote. I had a poor education, and I couldn’t comprehend anything in school before I went to prison. When I wrote my first poem, Judith shouted to the world that I was a poet and showed my work every where she could find an audience.”

Connection breeds connection, and one of the people Judith showed Spoon’s work to was Jan Jönson, a Swedish actor, writer, and stage director who stopped by Judith’s class. He was planning to direct a production of Waiting for Godot at San Quentin, and after reading Spoon’s poetry, asked him to play Pozzo. “I became an actor and I started to speak,” recalls Spoon, “My whole world became poetry, acting and art. It was truly magical and allowed me to live in and embrace every moment. It freed me from incarceration and allowed others to see their own humanity!”

The San Quentin production of Waiting for Godot premiered back in 1988, but it’s ripple effects have endured. Fast forward to 2023, Stockholm. Jan Jönson performed a one-man show titled Stunder av verklighet (Moments of Reality), which reflected on his experience directing theater in maximum-security prisons, San Quentin among them. In the audience were Jan Bergsten and Roland Berg, who would eventually lead the effort to translate Spoon’s poems into Swedish.

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As Roland Berg recalls, “Alone on the stage, it was [Jan Jönson] and a small round table with a lit candle and two big black-and-white photos on the wall. Nothing more. The images were of Samuel Beckett and Spoon Jackson. As an audience, we got an insight in to how the relationship between the actors — in particular, the relationship between Jan Jönson and Spoon Jackson — strengthened and grew. The story of Spoon Jackson’s life and Jan Jönson’s work at San Quentin was a story in its own right. You could probably say it was the start of an extraordinary poet’s and artist’s life.

“At the end of the performance, Jan Jönson invited us to write to Spoon. I felt that I did not really know if I could contribute and whether it would be of interest to a person in his situation to get in touch with me. After days of hesitation, I finally wrote a letter to Spoon and introduced myself. It turned out that my doubts were unfounded and I received a friendly reply ornamented with his characteristic ballpoint drawings.”

After many letters written back and forth, Roland was introduced to Spoon’s poetry book Longer Ago. “Together, my friend and colleague Jan Bergsten read the poetry collection and we were struck by the quality of the poems. Right then and there, the idea of ​​translating the book into Swedish began, and after just over a year of work (and with the help of publisher Bengt Berg), the book is now ready to be published in Swedish.”

Spoon is excited that his poetry will reach an international audience. “Language is splendid when shared with other beings, plants and animals,” he writes. “Language is good when we tap into the universal love — the universal flow that fills the world. Language is what makes us loving and human.”

Both Längre Tillbaka (“Longer Ago”) and its English version are available for purchase. Also, check out this documentary about the 1988 San Quentin production of Waiting for Godot.

Check out The Lawn Chair Soirée’s website for more recordings of readings!

Spoon would love to receive your letters. Send them here:

Spoon Jackson B-92377
Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility (RJD)
E Yard (Level II) 24, A104 lower
480 Alta Rd.
San Diego, CA 92179

DISTANCE
by Spoon Jackson

Everyone wants to love me
From afar

A distant star
Goes dark
Without the kiss
Of light from other stars

Everyone wants to hug me
From afar
When air hugs turn cold
In the night

Every one wants to know me
From afar
And think I have so much 
Going on 

Letters and calls
From around the world
But they don't see the tears
And how my heart stops at night

I sit like a waning sun
Hoping to touch light
To touch toes, hearts and sprits

They don't know
How broken, sad and tired
I am of being alone
In a place 
I don't want to be. 

Spoon would love to receive your letters. Send them here:

Spoon Jackson B-92377
Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility (RJD)
E Yard (Level II) 24, A104 lower
480 Alta Rd.
San Diego, CA 92179

Poem For My Brother Randy
by Spoon Jackson

Long time, no see
We never mentioned
We were brothers
From the same hood

Same school, the same church
The same father
We never mentioned out loud
We were brothers

Although we knew
We were
Same father different
Mothers

Long time, no see
I remember the years
We grew up

Riding 10-speed and Sting-Ray bikes
Down Route 66 from Barstow to Victorville
Hiking to Calico Ghost Town down the hill

Rabbit hunting and junk hauling
Walking over the shaky old bridge to grade school
Bottle hunting down Highway 58

We lived on different ends of the same street
Crooks Street, river bottom
Father had kids everywhere

We never mentioned
We were brothers until now
Until 50 years later
On the visiting application.

Spoon Jackson is a poet, writer, and artist from Barstow, California. He was sentenced to Life Without Possibility of Parole when he was twenty years old. You can keep up with his artist collective Rabbits of Realness by subscribing to this Substack. His poetry is collected in his book Longer Ago.

What: Rabbits of Realness is taking over the Zone 3 Mobile Cart during Harvard ArtsThursdays at Allstonway to host a free, drop-in zine making workshop. Create your own mini publication from scratch or contribute to a collaborative community zine inspired by themes of spring, reflection, and growth. It’s a relaxed, creative activity that pairs perfectly with an evening of art, live music, food, and exploration across the Enterprise Research Campus.

Where: Allstonway, 60 Western Avenue, Allston

When: Thursday, May 14 | 5:30 – 7:30PM

Who: You! This event is open to the public!

How much: FREE!

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If you aren’t in the Boston area or can’t make it, feel free to write in to Spoon about Spring. He would love to read your poems or nature walk thoughts. You can write to Spoon here:

Spoon Jackson B-92377
Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility (RJD)
E Yard (Level II) 24, A104 lower
480 Alta Rd.
San Diego, CA 92179

Spoon Jackson — Recently, I called my friend Dawn from across the big pond in England. She’s reluctant to become a Rabbit of Realness, but she is okay with being a Bear of Realness. Last year in April, Dawn decided to write a poem a day for a month. I jumped right in and joined the parade of poems. She didn’t quite write one a day. I said, “Hey friend, what happened?” We laughed. But by the end of the month, we had some cool poems.

This year, I joined her again on the April poetry journey. A poem a day. (Perhaps not every day.) My poems were inspired by any unique experience of the day. I just let my pen flow wherever it needed to go — no judgement or thoughts. The poems did not need to be classics or a masterpieces, just real. Even if they only ended up as scrap paper. I learned something in the moment and that’s okay.

The following is an essay I wrote about how a poem is born. It might help you get started on your own poems.

Poems are born from inside. For me, poetry is organic and as natural as words can be, conveying the language and symbols of my inner world. I believe art, music, song, and dance all touch on the universal pool of realness that fuels creativity.

Poems are born or inspired by nature. A great encounter with a bird, a rabbit, a snake, a dog, a cat, or any animal or plant life.

Let the poem flow and come forth like apples on trees — let it come forth with no judgement or thoughts. Let the magic, the poetry come forth like an unaltered dream that needs to be shared uninterrupted on paper. No editing, no guilt. Just smile.

Let the poem be like Elizabeth Bishop said, like a live frog in an imaginary garden. Or like a rabbit in an imaginary desert.

A poem is born, evoked from rebuffing hate and discrimination of any kind. A poem is born out of emotion and necessity — if I did not write, I’d be a shadow, boxing Death.

A poem is born when you allow the poet you used to be as a child to come forth — when your imagination was endless and awe kept your heart flowing. When you spoke in symbol and question.

Poems can be born of a question. You find a poem blowing up when you ask, “Why go to war over oil and hate?” Wherever war is born, you’ll find a poem blowing up.

Poetry is born from darkness and light, beyond right and wrong or good and evil, in a space called realness. Poems are born in the moment.

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Here’s an example of a poem I wrote this April, while writing one poem a day:

DANCING SPARROW

On my way to breakfast
I crunch up some top ramen
and bread to feed
my early morning sparrows

I have been trying to
get to know
since my arrival at
San Diego prison

Sunshine and beaches
amazon prime huge warehouses
right outside the prison

Prison in San Diego
just don't seem right
in the land of sunshine
and beaches

At my first sparrow
feeding spot the birds
were still jittery
figuring me out

But down the track
at my second feeding spot
before I even got
the top ramen bread crumbs
out of my pocket

A female sparrow danced
up close to me spreading
her wings and fluttering as
she danced

And displayed her style
asking for food —
that made my day —
she knows me.

Spoon would love to read your poems. Send them here:

Spoon Jackson B-92377
Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility (RJD)
E Yard (Level II) 24, A104 lower
480 Alta Rd.
San Diego, CA 92179

Spoon wrote the following essay in his Anthropology class after watching parts of the documentary Virunga, which focuses on how war, poaching, and oil exploration has threatened mountain gorillas in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

I don’t like the thought that soon the mountain gorilla will go the same way of the dodo bird and other animals now extinct, and will only be found in zoos. The gorillas will have lost their gorilla primate culture and social behavior.

I loved hearing how much the rangers in the park loved their gorilla families, especially the orphans they had to rescue from a sure death. The reserve rangers put their lives on the line even after their leader was shot in the chest and stomach. The orphaned young apes knew they were accepted and had a family.

I was so proud of the 400 rangers of the wildlife preserve who stood up against poachers and approaching wars. It showed how powerful love is. You could see the love in that one ranger’s eyes as he spoke of the orphaned gorillas. The love glowed from both primates eyes — a bond between two beings — two mammals, smiling, laughing and playing.

Sadly, without any grown up gorillas, there wasn’t anyone around to teach the orphaned mountain gorilla culture and social norms. What food is best, for example, and how to find the most nutritious and succulent leaves. I don’t believe any of them can be released back into the wild. So, their lives are safer with their brother and sister rangers.

I have been a part of the problem growing up. As a kid, I hunted sparrows and lizards with BB guns and pellet guns for sport. I killed the sparrows in the trees not for real food, just to show human dominance over other creatures.

It was wrong and since my awakening I have been feeding and loving sparrows up. There was nothing magical about killing those little beings.

The people who strapped the family of mountain gorillas to wooden poles and slaughtered them were wrong. There was no magic in doing that. There was no purpose and charm in cutting the apes head, feet, and hands off. They brought the family down from the mountains, their homes — the apes’ eyes wide open and sad with a great wonder why — their faces frozen in time.

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I saw my silverback brother laying there like Christ, strapped to the poles. His eyes full of love, black and now distant. The mountain gorillas’ bodies saying, “We just wanted to live. We just wanted to live. There are only 800 of us and billions of you.”

There were less than 1000 mountain gorillas left in the world when their mountain Eden was invaded by man killing the gorillas and their habitats. Sadly, with only 800 or so gorillas left, soon they will only be in zoos and will have lost the culture that kept their families alive and thriving.

I know life with all of its different manifestations and expressions has never been fair. Still, only 800 or so mountain gorillas left in the world is not fair or right. They are kind and gentle beings. How can anyone not see their tears when their tears are the same as ours? How can you not feel their pain and love when you look into their eyes? Man’s inhumanity to man — man’s inhumanity to apes.

Primates are a part of our larger family on the tree of life — the same branch.

Man and genocide has taken over the mountain of Eden. Gorillas along with hippos and other creatures became expendable so that tiny bits of their bodies can be sold on the market as some kind of magic — or charm. Do not the mountain gorillas have the right to live in the mountains?

Sadly, the docile and well-mannered primates had no idea what was to come of their beloved Eden. Where the gorillas just wanted to live their lives eating sweet leaves, playing tag. The mountain beings even allowed their brother and sister primates — humans — to observe and learn from them.

Sure, every now and then some young male gorilla will challenge the silverback for leadership. But the young gorillas are usually the silverback’s sons or brothers. The young one may be injured and encouraged to leave the family.

Ultimately, peace, play, and fellowship dominated the mountain gorillas’ world. The film on their journey and trauma broke my already wounded heart. How awful our family of primates are treated.

It looks like western greed will destroy the oldest national preserve in Africa — murdering the land, plants, and animals for oil and money.

If you want to write to Spoon, send him a letter here:

Spoon Jackson B-92377
Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility (RJD)
E Yard (Level II) 24, A104 lower
480 Alta Rd.
San Diego, CA 92179

If you want to work on a project with Spoon, send him a letter:

Spoon Jackson B-92377
Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility (RJD)
E Yard (Level II) 24, A104 lower
480 Alta Rd.
San Diego, CA 92179

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Untitled (Winter Reflection)
by Spoon Jackson

I have a Sara whose job it is to tend to the redwoods in the California forest hugging them checking their hearts. Keeping them company on snowy winter nights while the owl who lives in the arms and embrace of the redwood no longer hides when she sees Sara coming to say hi and share space and warmth. You look long enough at trees you will see them and branches and leaves dance. You will hear the matriarch voice soothing the younger trees and making a place inside for the squirrels to sleep winter away in the warmth of her belly.

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Winter
by Scott Nolan

The sounds of children 
playing hockey 
echo across the river 
near the off-leash dog park. 
Air thick with birch smoke
from a backyard fire. 
Those last few houses
pressing the deadline, 
keeping up their Christmas lights
well past their broken 
New Year’s resolutions.  

We'll embrace this forgotten landscape, 
those of us for whom winter is a middle name,
having learned to appreciate the silence 
several feet of snow will bring.

I'll walk the Truro Creek 
through the culvert 
beneath Portage Avenue,
Bruce Park, past the war memorial, 
under the little red wooden foot bridge
across the frozen Assiniboine, 
leaving fresh tracks, 
stopping only at Devil’s Ditch 
to say a little prayer.

SPRING FEVER
by Spoon Jackson

I sat in my spot
In front of the education building
And prepared a banquet of food
For my bird friends

I feed them cookies, sunflower seeds
Bread, peanut butter and love, 
Late spring

And soon I'll see their young ones
Black birds, wrens, sparrows, magpies
And crows

But, for now they move
Like the wind
Gathering up the food
To take back to their
Wide mouthed young

Young happy to see a parent
But, ecstatic
For their first taste
Of peanut butter

Spoon Jackson is a poet, writer, and artist from Barstow, California. He was sentenced to Life Without Possibility of Parole when he was twenty years old. You can keep up with his artist collective Rabbits of Realness by subscribing to this Substack. His poetry is collected in his book Longer Ago.

Scott Nolan is a songwriter, poet, and multi-instrumentalist from Winnipeg, Manitoba Treaty One territory. Keep up with Scott on his website and his Instagram. His poetry is collected in his book Moon Was a Feather.

The rabbits have created a variety of zines these past six months, a number of which promote peace, liberation, and compassion, and all of which offer a peek into each artist’s inner rabbit. Come check out our booth at the Multiple Formats Art Book Fair (March 21) to see the zines in-person! Here’s a sampling of what the rabbits have been working on:

Blessing Poem by Spoon Jackson, with illustrations by Tao Hom

This zine was written by internationally recognized poet Spoon Jackson and brought to life by artist Tao Hom, with characters inspired by her small niece and nephew. It encourage you to reflect on how beautiful life’s blessings truly are.

Fluorescent by Stephanie Li

A personal pep talk in pocket size about the bright spark that lives in each of us.

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HANGRY by Jane Kim Testa

A tale as old as time: you aren’t you when you’re hungry.

A Gaggle of Silly Bird Group Names by Bryce Mick

A parliament of owls (and that’s only the tip of the iceberg).

The Space Cowboy Handbook by Clare Martin

A beginner’s guide to the incredibly disappointing realties of Mars colonization.

Bonus: Grab an Abolish Ice Poster by Jane Kim Testa

Stop by the Multiple Formats Art Book Fair on March 21st from 11am - 6pm at Boston University’s School of Visual Arts to check these zines out in person (and probably see lots of other cool stuff).

Scott Nolan — I’d only just begun to get to know my cousin. He stayed with my family in Winnipeg for a month. He used to sleep in our driveway in this compact RV trailer we had at the time. He quickly became like the big brother I never had, and a male presence in my life that always seemed willing to drop what he was doing to spend time with me. We used to ride around on the handlebars of my father's 10 speed bicycle, making up silly songs like “Kentucky Fried Frog Legs,” just really being kids.

Before I knew what happened, my cousin had snuck away in the middle of the night. He had stolen from my mom and dad, and he was on his way to California. There, he took a man’s life. He was about 19 years old, and he was going to serve a life sentence.

At the time, I was experiencing a very difficult adolescence. My father was in the throes of alcoholism and binge drinking, and had a lot of rage and anger in his heart from a difficult upbringing. Without really telling the people around me, I began exchanging prison letters with my cousin. He understood what things were like for me at home; it was a childhood he had lived himself.

By the time those in my orbit found out about the letter exchanges, they assumed I was young and naïve and being conned. Because my memories of my cousin are wholesome and positive, I suppose I always gave him the benefit of the doubt. It would be many years before anybody understood the depth of our friendship and relationship, and what a profound impact it had on my young life.

Art and my cousin saved my life as an adolescent, and art continues to save my life every day.

My cousin used to write me about all the new things he was learning in prison. When I talk about him, I often say that at the end of violence was poetry, and at the beginning of poetry was a whole new universe. A bit of education and inspiration was the foundation for my cousin changing his life. When I began working on my own lifestyle and habits, I carried this foundation with me.

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One of the names that popped up frequently in those early letters was Spoon Jackson, an African-American poet who has now been incarcerated for 50 years. My cousin would talk about him and Spoon walking the track discussing philosophy, spirituality, and poetry. This was something that was unheard of in the prison yard they occupied; a black man and a white man walking out by themselves, unaffiliated. These two men blazed a trail. As a kid, I had this song I made up where the hook line was “Cousin Pat and Spoon Jackson walked the yard.” I had this imagery burned into my brain.

When I was about to turn 40 nearly a dozen years ago now, I was desperate to give up cigarettes. I'd tried and failed and tried and failed again. With no light in sight, I told myself, the next morning, I would wake up as a 40 year old man and walk 10 kilometers a day, every day, no matter what, rain or shine. During those very early walks, I had the image of my cousin, Patrick Nolan, and Spoon Jackson walking, the rhythm and shuffle of their feet, informing the conversation, driving the momentum. The very first day that I walked, a poem came to me. Every time it got near the point where I was afraid of not being able to remember part of it, I would stop and type it into my phone. To my surprise, the next day, another poem came, and another one the day after that. I’d never written a poem. But as I walked, the image of these two men guided me, and before I knew it I had a manuscript, and I could care less about cigarettes.

I continue to walk 10 kilometers every day. It was this gift that kept on giving.

As of this writing, I am 51 years of age, and I think of Spoon frequently. My cousin Patrick has been gone over 26 years now. I can almost look at my life in decades and marvel at the growth, and sometimes I feel like I barely resemble the earlier version of myself. I then think about being incarcerated for 50 years and what effects that would have on a human being. Spoon’s poetry is how he beat the system or, rather, how he wouldn’t allow the system to beat him. To find beauty behind cell bars seems like nothing short of a miracle to me.

Scott Nolan is a songwriter, poet, and multi-instrumentalist from Winnipeg, Manitoba Treaty One territory. Keep up with Scott on his website and his Instagram. The poems that were born out of these initial 10 kilometer walks are collected in his book Moon Was a Feather.

Jane is a multidisciplinary artist, with a practice that spans illustration, writing, painting, fiber arts, and songwriting. They believe that the expressive arts are a powerful tool for healing, connection, and nurturing empathy, and they aim to create art that invites people to reflect on their own healing journeys and find comfort in shared experiences. Having lived in Seoul, Hong Kong, Los Angeles, New York, and now Boston, Jane strives to tell stories that foster understanding and highlight diverse perspectives. Jane is currently pursuing a masters degree in Expressive Arts Therapy at Lesley University.

Jane took an inspiring and non-linear path to get to where they are now. In college, they studied English and Creative Writing. They’ve worked as a dog walker, an assistant to an author, an administrative assistant, and even pivoted to software, before now pursuing Expressive Arts Therapy. All throughout their journey up to this point, art, writing, and music provided an outlet for expression and creativity.

Jane and rabbit SaraMarie had originally met in college, but reconnected after Jane moved back to Boston after a few years in New York. Jane had long admired SaraMarie and Spoon’s work, but it wasn’t until fellow Rabbit Stephanie got them and SaraMarie together to apply for a public art grant that they joined Rabbits of Realness in 2024. Although Rabbits did not receive that grant, this kickstarted SaraMarie, Stephanie, and Jane’s partnership for a long string of zine, mental health, and social movement based workshops in the Boston area. It’s been an incredible ride!

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Jane’s beautiful and uplifting art can be found on several utility boxes across the Boston area. In Brookline, Jane painted a marathon-inspired utility box mural (and the famous rainbow turkey in Washington Square)! Jane has also worked on a series of five utility box murals in Blackstone Square, inspired by local flora and fauna and featuring insane hand lettering. Nearby, Jane got to know the staff at Anoushella and also was hired to paint a vibrant and tasty utility box mural located right outside the store!

In the Rabbits world, Jane has developed several powerful zines about identity and activism. Jane created the poetry zine Genderfluid about their personal experience with gender, as a reflection of their journey towards self acceptance and love. Their zine Standing Together was originally created in 2020, but was re-illustrated in 2025 for the occasion of Rabbits of Realness’s Letter Writing for Community Action event at the Cambridge Kiosk. Free copies of this zine (among others by Rabbits members) are now available at the Brookline Booksmith’s free zine display in Coolidge Corner!

Jane and SaraMarie have also taught several lectures on the queer history of zines, with Jane providing interesting commentary on how fandoms have leveraged zines to build community. They have had the opportunity to speak at Narrative Bookshop, the Somerville Zine Fair, and to lead a class takeover with Alex Makes Art.

Jane is also a zine-folding extraordinaire, having been long primed by having participated in their mother's book binding explorations in teenagehood. We timed them once and Jane was able to fold 100 zines in 55 minutes!

Jane is also an avid fiber artist, and loves to knit, crochet, and spin fiber. Most recently they have ventured into the realm of wet felting, and felted themself a pair of gloves made from their dog’s fur! “These make my hands impervious to the Boston winter!” they claim. We believe it!

You can keep up with Jane’s work by checking out their website and by following their Instagram.

Matthew Schneeman — I met Spoon Jackson over the phone in 2019. I was story hunting for a radio feature and a producer from Uncuffed, a podcast out of Solano Prison that Spoon worked on, put me in touch with him. As a relatively new journalist (certainly new to more consequential topics such as incarceration — my previous pieces were on things like a charming pet cemetery or a hockey league for eighty-plus year olds), I was excited to be taking on a story that was more serious.

I knew Spoon was a character from the start. He had a confident swagger on the phone as he danced around ‘computer lady’ — the prison’s automated message that plays every five minutes — as she interrupted our calls. Sometimes, because the phone line wasn’t always clear, he would mishear something I said and begin responding to the wrong topic. I would correct him jokingly and give him a bit of shit. It gave us a somewhat comedic rapport which I think served us for the first show I did with him called AT NiGHT i FLY. The pitch of that podcast was to get me, someone who’s not that into poetry, through Spoon’s poems, to give a shit about poetry. This wasn’t that hard. Spoon’s poetry is quite accessible and direct and, even to a prose-loving person like me, beautiful. For that series, Spoon told stories about growing up in Barstow and I did supplemental field pieces where I went on mini adventures to a dog spa, or to hunt a pigeon in Brooklyn. I recorded some music for it and it was a great show

A couple years later we teamed up again on a larger, more official show called Navigating Freedom — a show about people in and around California prisons. I asked Spoon to be a producer on the show with me. I thought he could do some writing and pitch episodes, maybe host one? Spoon had always been very casual and spontaneous on the phone, and this translated pretty directly into his producing. Instead of pitching story ideas and writing narration, he would spur of the moment (certainly without giving me a heads up) grab someone from around the prison in Solano and call me up with them standing by. “Hey hey, what’s up? Listen, I got this guy who is in the firefighting program, you said you wanted to do an episode on work in prison right? Anyway, here he is…” and I would do the interview on the fly. I loved it. I like improv and Spoon got great people and, most importantly, they trusted Spoon enough to pick up a phone and talk to me, a complete stranger, 2,000 miles away, and tell me their life story, their biggest regrets, their crime, their hopes, and everything they’ve learned to heal themselves and atone for their mistakes. Spoon hooked me up with people who ran half-marathons while in prison, were in a gardening program, wrote science fiction, made a sweat lodge out on the yard, and more.

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I’ve kept up with Spoon. I help out by ordering his quarterly packages for him, a way for him to buy stuff he can’t get at the commissary (which usually ends up being about fifty pounds of beef jerky—I’m exaggerating, but by how much, I’m not sure?). He recently was transferred to a new prison and this one has food cells (which I think is like a vending machine but with fresher food in it?). One item he was particularly excited about was clams. He used to have to have me order him clams. We have a running joke about clams. On the phone, when I’m ordering his quarterly package for him, he’ll ask for clams and I’ll suggest ‘oysters’ because clams sometimes are out of stock. He’ll then go on a mini-rant about how oysters are gross because ‘they got their shit still in them!’ Then, three or five months later he’ll have me order another package and I’ll, hilariously, pretend he wants oysters and he’ll complain about oysters. It’s not much of a joke, is it? He doesn’t really laugh at it, but maybe he puts up with me and my attempt to entertain myself.

To prepare for this blog post about collaborating with Spoon, I asked him if he had any memories about when we first started collaborating together. He said he remembered that he liked the idea for AT NiGHT i FLY and that a handful of people liked the show a lot. Within a minute he was pitching a reboot — “Maybe we could do a live version, something for Rabbits of Realness.” That’s Spoon for you. He just wants to connect and make things. I’ve been too busy, a bit burnt out on audio, and so I haven’t taken him up on the offer to make a new show, but he keeps asking every now and then and I, like him suffering through my recurring oyster/clam bit, indulged his plans and schemes for the next project. I recently had some clams from a tin on a camping trip. They were good! I have no idea if they’re better than oysters but even if they aren’t, oysters still got their shit in them.

Listen to Spoon and Matthew’s podcast Navigating Freedom.

Introducing Stephanie Li, the rabbits’ organizer-in-chief and administration diva! Stephanie is a muralist, illustrator, and storyteller based in Boston. Her work celebrates nature, explores emotions and memories, and illuminates science. Inspired by her love for nature and fantasy, she enjoys creating vibrant scenes that bring wonder to the everyday and help people feel a little less alone in this world.

Stephanie and her husband Mike regularly invite friends, coworkers, and coworkers who’ve become friends over for dinner parties in their home. Mike and Stephanie cook dishes from all over the world, and as a rule they come out better than anything you could find in a restaurant. SaraMarie was lucky enough to be one of Mike’s coworkers who had become a friend, and met Stephanie many times for dinner parties and dinners out where they would talk about art and zines.

Stephanie and SaraMarie started to work on similar projects after discussing ideas together, and would always share what they made with each other. The experience was inspiring and led to new zines from them both. Here’s an example of one idea interpreted in two ways:

Then, Stephanie found out about a grant for local artists that she thought it could be fun to try applying for. She got SaraMarie and her friend (and now fellow rabbit) Jane Kim-Testa together to come up with ideas for what public art ideas to propose. SaraMarie asked if they might consider applying under Rabbits of Realness, and both agreed. RoR hadn’t run any workshops at the time, but Spoon had, and there was a lot of material to work with. They didn’t end up getting the grant, but it was clear from the experience of applying that it was the beginning of an inspiring and easy working relationship. Shortly after, both Stephanie and Jane agreed to join RoR and applied for many more opportunities, many of which did work out, and led to the many workshops and zine fairs that RoR hosted and participated in last year (2025).

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Since signing on, Stephanie has worn a million different hats for Rabbits of Realness. She’s become RoR’s de facto manager — she keeps us on track for event planning, grant applications, and event applications. As a leader of some of these workshops, including “Childhood Memories of Food” based on her zine of the same name, she’s known for making participants feel at ease, always ready to have a thoughtful conversation. People leave RoR workshops saying they’re glad to have met her. Beyond this, Stephanie’s created a number of zines for RoR that have touched and brought warmth to those that read them.

Although her personal practice is rooted in digital art and illustration, Stephanie has spent the last couple years branching out into more physical media. In 2024, she worked with the Pao Arts Center as well as artists Jennifer Duan and Katelyn Lipton to bring painted ping pong tables to Chinatown in an effort to encourage intergenerational gathering, play, and wellness. Her ping pong table, “People of Chinatown,” celebrates the people who live in, work in, and visit the neighborhood. Last year, the Pao Arts Center featured the ping pong tables in their exhibit “Celebrations of Perseverance: Public Art in Chinatown, 2024-2025.”

Stephanie also experimented with screen printing last year as one of Antidesigns’ featured guests at their Test Print Tuesday events, hosted by Zone 3. She further explored physical media by creating “Letters to the Earth,” a series of mini-zines that are constructed of seed paper and made to be planted. In 2026, she’s looking forward to working more with papier-mâché. She’s starting with a small teacup, and seeing where that takes her!

Outside of her artwork and work with the rabbits, Stephanie is an avid hiker, voracious reader, and host of the aforementioned wonderful dinner parties that the rabbits have benefitted from many a time. She’s also a dancer, a musician… the list goes on. What we’re trying to say is that Stephanie is awesome, and she can do everything.

Subscribe to Stephanie’s Substack “Flowerstorm” to keep up with her art. If you’re interested in collaborating with her on a project, you can reach out at hello@stephanieliart.com.

Mark Foss — I was not one of those kids who plays well with others. In journalism school, I often struggled to work with a “team” to produce a newspaper, a radio show or a television broadcast. Perhaps that’s why I never became a journalist. Instead, after working in communications for two foreign aid groups, I became a writer/editor who worked from home.

When I began taking creative writing workshops in the 1990s, I finally discovered the pleasures of collaboration. We were not working on a joint project, but we still supported each other in our own journeys. I welcomed the constructive criticism that I received and honed my skills in providing respectful feedback to others.

The roots of my collaboration with Spoon Jackson date to the mid-2010s. My partner, Michka Saäl, was making a film about how Spoon discovered poetry while serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole in California prisons. The film, simply called Spoon, was conceived as a poetic and political exchange imprinted on the dunes of the Mojave Desert and her interior landscapes. I drove the team around the desert, but Spoon and I had not connected during the production. We met for the first time when he called with condolences in July 2017 — the day after Michka died from an illness. Thus began a steady stream of calls, letters, emails and texts between us that continues to this day.

Our sharing first turned to collaboration in 2019 following the death of Judith Tannenbaum, the teaching artist who introduced Spoon to poetry at San Quentin. Spoon wanted to prepare a commemorative book of essays, poems and recollections from former students, friends and other teaching artists of how Judith had touched their lives. I signed on as a co-editor, teaming up with Spoon and Judith’s daughter Sara Press to bring his vision to reality. I worked with contributors to polish their words and developed a prospectus to convince the publisher it was a viable idea.

At first, I had hesitated to volunteer for the editing role. I worried it would take too much time from my own writing. However, it turned out to be a rewarding and uplifting experience. I appreciated the deep gratitude of the contributors towards Judith, and I was pleased to help them shape their words as needed.

Our collaboration began in October 2020, just as the second wave of the pandemic began to shut down the world. As my social life went largely virtual, working with Spoon’s contributors became a much-needed lifeline. More than that, when I learned what COVID meant inside a prison, it put the idea of “lockdown” in Montreal into a larger context.

While Spoon was recovering from COVID, I would email him the draft poems and essays for his comments and make a list of points to go over on our next telephone call. Always, by the time we spoke, his network had updated him on whose pieces had arrived and whose were delayed. I began to realize just how much his leadership from prison was driving the whole project.

In 2022, New Village Press, which had previously published a joint memoir by Spoon and Judith, published our homage to her called The Book of Judith. Since then, I have continued to work with Spoon in different ways. Sometimes, he will read different versions of poems or songs over the phone, and I will offer feedback. Recently, I told him about a call for poems from a journal with the theme of “Anew”. He wrote new poems and dictated them over the phone, and I typed them up and sent them. They were not accepted, as often happens, but Spoon was typically upbeat: “It is their loss! They will eventually get into the world! Thanks!”

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Other times, he will dictate opinion pieces for newspapers that I will type up and then edit collaboratively with him. When a piece about visitation was rejected recently, I suggested that he add more details. He wrote back: “Sounds great to me and I know since I have more distance from that situation, I can add more layers to the article and restructure! I am sure it will come out better!”

In January 2026, the film Spoon was shown for the first time in the US at Circle Cinema Theatre in Tulsa, Oklahoma. It was part of a film and art exhibit featuring the work of incarcerated artists organized by JustArts, a non-profit group that “centers and celebrates the creative work of people who are incarcerated, affirming their voices and visions as vital parts of our cultural landscape.”

The founder of JustArts was a friend of Spoon’s with whom I had worked virtually through The Book of Judith. In this sense, the screening was an extension of our work together on Spoon’s homage to Judith Tannenbaum. When the seeds of collaboration are planted, we never know where they will sprout.

Click here to watch Rabbits of Realness’ interview with Mark. To see more of Mark’s work, take a look at his website.

The most fruitful collaborations stem from connections between those with shared goals but different experiences, skills, and resources. Fury Young and Spoon Jackson have been collaborators since 2014, when Spoon first began contributing poetry, lyrics, and visual art to Fury’s then-fledgling Die Jim Crow project. Die Jim Crow was born of Fury’s idea to create a concept album with formerly and currently incarcerated Black musicians that explored themes of racial injustice in the U.S. prison system. Over time, as Fury recorded with more and more individuals in multiple prisons, it was decided that Die Jim Crow was bigger than a concept album, and would transform into a record label instead, now dubbed FREER Records.

In 2024, FREER Records released Spoon’s album No Moon, composed by grammy-nominated Nicolas Snyder and set to visuals by 12 different video artists coordinated by Fury. No Moon is a sprawling, spiritual soundscape that serves as a testament to the endless freedom of imagination, even from behind prison walls. The album also exemplifies the power of creative collaboration; with a shared vision regarding injustice in the prison system and a desire to deliver their message through creative expression, Spoon and Fury were able to create a powerful piece of art that could never have existed without their combined efforts.

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Here’s what Fury and Spoon have to say about their collaboration over the years:

Fury: “I’ve known Spoon since 2014 and it's been a fun ride, despite him being inside. When I first met him, I was green to this stuff, and I thought he’d get out in the next ten years despite having LWOP [Life Without Parole]. It hasn't happened, but my passion for his release hasn’t waned. The past 12 years have been inspirational to me — Spoon has held strong, inspiring more and more artists over the years. From art shows, to an album with Nicolas Snyder, to a documentary, to Rabbits of Realness, Spoon has grown his network and keeps his artistic and poetic flame alive no matter the circumstances. I've gotten to know great people from around the world because of Spoon, and he even wrote the intro to my poetry book "Meat & Milk" in 2016. I won’t ever stop fighting for Spoon’s freedom so he can get to walk in new paths among wild nature. Whether he is inside or out here, Spoon will keep inspiring those around him. And that's a special gift.”

Spoon: “It has been a blessing [to collaborate with Fury], and has opened the heavenly gates to the music world even more [for me], allowing my natural reflections of music to be shared with people in the free world. Some people don’t know how freeing and important music and the world of art is for the incarcerated and their restoration! Makes me think about Stevie Wonder and his album Songs in the Key of Life.”

Follow FREER Records on Instagram @freer_records, and listen to Spoon’s album No Moon.

Rabbits of Realness is an artist collective and publishing project co-founded by incarcerated poet Spoon Jackson and artist SaraMarie Bottaro. Now, Rabbits of Realness encompasses a community of artists and storytellers committed to spreading creativity, justice, and compassion. Here are some lessons and tips on creating and maintaining creative collaborations, from rabbits SaraMarie and Stephanie.

• Identify strengths and weaknesses. Delegating is key to avoiding burnout. What comes easy to you, that may not be easy for your collaborators? What are the things you enjoy doing, and when do you encounter internal resistance towards certain tasks and activities?

• Assign a primary contact person for each project or relationship. This helps with clarifying roles and staying organized.

• Stay in touch with your collaborators. Find a platform that works for everyone to share updates and coordinate on projects. (For us, that’s a messaging group and Google Drive.)

  Spoonful of Wisdom

  “When you collaborate, you must be individuals, but you must also be on the same overall page! For the project to succeed, you must all believe in the project, put hard work into the project, and be in touch with your inner rabbit!”

• Tag all your collaborators on social media. Everyone’s network helps expand the reach and awareness of your work.

• Share your best and worst ideas. Let the brainstorming flow!

• Go to events together. Introduce yourself to other members of the community and make new friends! You never know when a connection can lead to a new opportunity.

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• Know the amount of time and energy you can invest into a project. Don’t be afraid to set boundaries and communicate your needs to your collaborators.

• Document, document document! Take photos and videos of all aspects of your work and process. These make great pieces for websites, social media posts, and future applications and grants.

Want to make a zine or host a workshop with us? Shoot us an email with your idea at hello@rabbitsofrealness.art.

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2025 was a stunningly successful year for Rabbits of Realness. We hosted 8 workshops, had a table at 5 different zine fairs, and created 275 zine kits, 155 of which have been distributed so far to kids and adults. We got to work with 5 amazing local art organizations in the Boston area, and delivered our lecture “The History of Zines as Queer Expression” not once, but twice! The second time was an expanded version that included “Fan Fic Interludes” with RoR member Jane Kim-Testa, to everyone’s delight.

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Here are a few highlights from our 2025 workshops:

The defining project of the year was creating “kid kits” to introduce elementary school aged kids to the art of letter writing. Most of the kits we distributed were these ones, consisting of our How to Write Your First Ever Letter zine (available for free download), a stamped envelope, colored paper, origami paper, and colored pencils or crayons. Before the school holiday break, we sent 20 of these kits to Mariah’s 4th grade class in Baltimore. In the future, we hope to send one for each of the 80 students she sees in a day.

The Rabbits themselves have grown in numbers, as rabbits do, through more artists and writers joining to make zines with us. We published a number of new zines in 2025, and are working on a new website where they will all be available. This is part of a few RoR administrative infrastructure projects. Speaking of, we actually wrote a mission statement this year:

When we spoke with Spoon this past Monday, he said that his goal for RoR in 2026 is to get more love and joy out into the world, and promote the things that we do. He wants to have a series of questions that we talk about each Sunday (probably over on our Instagram) focused on creativity, writing, and having fun.

Overall, the pressure cooker of 2025’s political landscape has lit a fire under us to do all the good that we can right now, and practice hope through action. We believe this is human to human work. Heart to heart connections are properly messy. Creativity is an iterative process that requires soul. It is hard and it is beautiful. We’re so happy to be here on the planet with each of you reading this. Happy New Year, let’s make zines together in 2026!

Here’s a poem by Spoon on AI - cheers!

A and I

AI cannot sleep, dream, or fly. 
It cannot see or feel an orange sherbet desert sunset. 
It cannot taste the scent of a woman or a bite of an apple. 
No matter how hard it tries, it never felt a mother’s tears
or the sweet waters of her womb or heard a baby’s sigh.

AI cannot live and cannot die 
because it cannot dance, it cannot cry; 
it cannot sleep, dream, or fly, 
no matter how hard it tries. 
AI cannot live and cannot die.
It cannot feel the pull of the moon at its height. 

AI is good for some things, but must remain out of sight
because it cannot fill our heart with love
and it has no skin to feel the night. 
It cannot live. It cannot die. 

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