David Jackson

And I didn’t know
what to say,
the correctness of the thing,
the oneness, or the
randomness of the thing,
in the morning,
in the evening,
in
nothingness,
which is where we end up when
we try,
or when we don’t
try
with out hope,
which is why God
put
us
here

***

And What If I Should Win
by David Jackson

what, then
fame or peace?
Which is it?
When the music flows like the sunrise settles
upon the horizon, like the
wind itself
settles upon the
contours of the
windows into
the soul
itself, or
into the poem
of hope itself,
yes, the embodiment of hope within the music,
within the music, the embodiment of the
music, the
soul, the visual,
the
art,
at least
tries,
at least
settles into the trickle
of a small stream
somewhere
making
almost silent
peace.

***

What Matters

and in the twilight of our wonder
will we succumb?
I think not.
Rather we will hope again,
love again,
until
the beginning,
until the breeze blows softly again,
and the simple suggestion of
softness
matters again.
– David Jackson
***

FOR WILLIE
who am I to say musician
to say poet
who am I
to say artist
every human needs to say
these
these are the only hands
these are the supreme hands
I am the only man who ever lived
a mammal in a lair
snarling when cornered
like Dylan’s wolverine
gasping for the last breath
for the last word ever uttered by
mankind itself

– David Jackson

***

Once Every Lifetime
when the muses meet
they will say
that summer comes every year
I say that summer
comes
once every lifetime
but only if
you
listen
only if you
care
to listen.
Each moment
carries
a poet
in a cage
dragged through
the
street
***