To Be Poem

To Be Poem

To Be,
having not been for
so very long.
How long?
How long?
As long as the universe
and as wide
as her eyes
in this
sad world;
and she looks
at the same moon
as I
and she moves her toes in the dirt
connected to the dirt under me.

Moon I say.


so orange and blue.

You are a pathetic rock

without her eyes

to see you.

Meaningless Scribbles from a Tiny Universe by David Michael Jackson

It is because
the wind had nothing to say
and the spaces between the words were quiet
for too long
and he wondered if an old man
could have anything to say
that the world wasn’t dew on roses
that life isn’t the edge of the razor
or the razor itself
that the universe could never be empty
so it blew itself up

and the leaves fell off the trees
and the babies all cried
and the snow stopped
and was quiet
and the words flowed again without
finding themselves
or meaning much
but they tried anyway and
threw themselves onto the page
and said
“We’ll be futile scribbles in a meaningless world in a tiny infinite universe.”

To Keep the Wolves Away Poem

It’s good to be back
back in the fold,
in the fold, the sheep listen for the wolf
and stay in the flock
hoping to stay safe
as we all are,
as is the wolf
in the night
creeping along
like me
like the bee said the tree
like the dog said the log
as we log the time
forever waiting for tomorrow
when yesterday went by so fast
and we remember so little
because we are such imperfect cameras,
such imperfect scribes.
It is good to be back, bold
and in the fold hoping
to fit into the flock
and keep the wolves

A Play of Words

A play of words

a simple play with God

with man

with you and I

swirling in the universe

like ripples in the stream

of thought

of words

waiting for


in the darkness