art music poetry

The Sun Was Well Up
By Wayne Jackson 1950-1989

circa 1978

The sun was well up now and what clouds that were, left grey tufts of themselves, lay east, sharply delineated wisps, grey solitary clumps of them maybe fifteen miles away. It was good flatland between here and there. The sun was warm but low.It warmed all those slivers of clothes I wore because I am so cold natured. On the other hand it takes a hot july sun to make me break a sweat. Things even up…..sorta. and I knew I would be able to get even with all those bastards who wander around the job in November wearing a tshirt. I would get even with all those people who stood comfortably in that bleak wintry scene, who looked on scornfully while, every muscle in me, was fighting the cold while while two sides of myself argued over control. Self on saying “Listen Jack, it’s only Tuesday”

Copyright © 1997 by Donald Wayne Jackson, All rights reserved

Ready
~~~~~~~~~~

Used to say I am ready to die
but I was a coward
I was not ready to live

second hand lives
lives of few seconds

Used to say I was ready to die
now I am willing to live
to die anyday now
ready to live ready to leave.

***

Finally I thank my parents
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything I ever learned
came from my parents’ mistakes
the solutions of one generation
are the problems of the next

Whatever they did to help me
was against my nature
Swimming against the waves
I learned where my future was

I shouted and cried until I silenced
and there I could see my angels
helping me to get through

It happened in dreams where
funny films were screened before me
waking me up, my laughs from nowhere.

***

Witches
~~~~~~

The witches look lovely tonight
they are all dressed for the wedding
of Lilith and Prince Charles
Their noses are perfect
and they walk to applaud
the love they always had
The witches they have names
that burn the water that tighten
their belly to the next oven
and we all know the witches love you
they love kings and princes
they love poets and slaves
they love everything
for they are witches
and their loves are ashes.

***

Many Tongues
~~~~~~~~
(this poem comemorates the fact that I have only
written 2 poems in Hebrew in the last two years).

I left the Hebrew language
as others leave a loved woman
they have been trying to fuck
for ten or fifteen years, saying
woman I am a man, hear all the
other women that want me and
now I have to go and get what
I need from them, I am a poet
woman, and you can’t be my
fantasy forever, I am poet in search
of a a language and many tongues
have loved me and your door has
been closed for so long, I had to
open other knobs with other hands
I can’t behave like an amputee forever
and now that so many doors have
opened, now you open yours to see
if I’m still there, I am not and when
you see me near it’s because I took
a walk, a walk through my old habits
I don’t need your tongue, many tongues
have loved me now and I don’t miss
your never existing carress anymore.

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