I am no Pound
just an ounce of pure innocence
at best
we forget the child
and are very lucky if we
are suddenly old enough or
fragile enough
to examine a stone
or laugh as we
run
or explore
again
wander the creek again
finding the perfect skipping stone takes
patience
must be important to
be worth the effort
as the stone is lost
as are we
after a few great _ _ _ skips
***
Mudscapes #1
“incomprehensible”
bear eyes mourning for such a species
as whose mating habits include
headache, kidney stones,
cirrhosis, hangover and lately shampoo and aphrodisiacs
with
bile of bear
2 days of tear drops for the bear before i finally saw
the bear’s mournful sad eyes are not for bearself
they are for us humanselves
with such collective karma
to render balance to
every life a jesusfreak to be reckoned with
soo many years/eons/moments
forgotten to remember
remembering to forget
mournful & bewildered
bear eyes
***
dear heart I’m thinking of you
and your pain
and it took me till this very moment
in the middle of writing Ken a letter
(we met in nonviolence.org you know)
which brings me to my old nursing days
now wanting to tell you about the burned
out nurses you are encountering
nurses do have the highest burn-out rate
it is administration
fearing one mistake will lose their license
paper work demanded and more important
than patient care
and tending so much pain
I do not excuse them
they should change professions
we don’t have to live with our enemy
as neighbors
but we need to love their pain
and yes I know when we witness
anyone causing pain
directly or indirectly
we stop it any way we can
when we reach evening’s dim light
with time to breathe and ponder
it is our human heart
promising better
next time
***
For Just A Second
Glimpses through the trees,
landscapes captured for a second
from the highways,
these are what is left of your
world when you don’t pull over
and you are left with glimpses
soon covered up with
asphalt and concrete
bricks and mortar
and semi-trailers
Sometimes
– David Michael Jackson
***
IN THESE CLUTTERED TIMES
somehow these places eventually lose
identity too in these
cluttered times
passenger creek still weaves through
sugar camp hollow.
there are still legends and indians for
awhile still
for a short while
but up grant’s chapel road
grant’s chapel being of course long gone
there being left only a cemetery with
one
stone
empty coffin
just up from the biggest oak in any parts
which is at the deserted settlement just off the trail of tears
which is now
gone
the oak being there in some wealthy back yard
the settlement cleaned away except in my memory
It was once to be had by slipping around the pond,
the pond being now gone
and the frogs
yet Passenger Creek still weaves it’s history
through sugar camp hollow,
where it has been said Indian ghosts protect confederate gold
for
a
little
while
yet
– David Jackson
***
OH, HELLO
willie and lobo
tonight
and the summer nights oh
the summer nights
the hazy moon says
hello
the last of the brandy says
goodbye
and we come and go and pass into the
summer
nights
and we become the wind in the grasses
and the hot breeze which passes
makes us like leather,
tough enough to take the heat
ah,
bring it on
I’ll sit here and run my toes in the freshly cut grass
and tough it out
– David Jackson.
***