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
***

I cannot hear the peace
In the roar of

the drums

I cannot see the peace
in the brightness of

the bombs

I cannot taste the peace
in the bitterness of

the hatred

My heart cannot feel the peace
in the rough textures of

the street

And I cannot smell the peace
amid the tears of

the gas

such rocky souls we are
when children gather to throw

rocks at

tanks

– David Jackson
***

PASSENGER CREEK
Passenger Creek she calls to me
those boysteps wandering
her banks,
thy banks.
she calls like the ancient winds
call
she calls with the quietest
of voices
your voices
thy voices
Her green waters flow
in me,
my brothers,
my
father.
My mother’s tiny little house
beside the creek
Passenger Creek

– David Jackson
***

well it’s appraisal time and………

Wriggling
wriggling
wriggling on the pin
the eye in the lens
“It’s a bug”
“No
It’s an asset
A resource”
“No”
“It’s a bug”
Wriggling
The pin!
Oh, the pin!
Sweating on the slide
The heat!
The heat!
The heat of the light.
The eye again.
“It’s a bug.”
“No, no, it needs a speech, yes that’s it, a speech.”
“Stop it
It’s getting away.”
“Don’t let it get off
the property.”
“Damn.”
“It’s gone”
Look!
Over there!
“It’s a butterfly!”

***