In her folk songs, Chicago poet and singer Kara Jackson reaches for the comet trail of an unanswerable question and examines the vapor it leaves. “Isn’t that just love?/When you’re no fun?” she asks repeatedly on “No Fun/Party,” right after receiving a devastating verdict from an ex-partner: “When searching for a reason, he could only find one/He said, ‘You’re just no fun.’” It’s the kind of break-up judgment that could send somebody into a years-long hibernation, but Jackson’s narrator gently probes its meaning until reaching a wise realization. Her voice, low and tender, encircles the song’s two ticking acoustic guitar chords like a protective hug, before she switches to banjo and croons a sweet denouement: “Don’t be sorry for missing the party/’Cause somebody’s party is missing you, too.”