David Michael Jackson Poems

Yesterday we received 1768 “requests” for our mp3 files. 100 of those were for Fiddler Man. Our “free” mp3s are streamed to play buttons on many file sharing sites. Some get a few listens per day, some get many plays each day. The people who play our songs don’t actually visit our site.

Fiddler Man was played 100 times yesterday. If you put 100 people in a room it would seem to be a lot but on the internet it’s a number. You might make someone applaud in Sri Lanka but you cannot hear it, or maybe they played it and went to the bathroom. You never quite know. Maybe they downloaded it and your song will be saved in Sri Lanka or Sao Paulo or Duluth. The compulsion of unknown artists to give their art away is unstoppable.

That person in Puerto Rico or China may have found me in a search for Michael Jackson or David Michael Jones.

I can’t even thank those 100 people for listening to me because none of them are reading these words. I can’t thank them so I’ll  thank you.

Thanks for listening.

They lead Dave quietly out of the room. They place a coat around his shoulders. He casts it off…he returns to the mic….

we miss you James Brown

Here is a younger me in a tree:

From the Album You Boys Ain’t Hopin’ Me None

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david michael jackson  july 18 2012 editors@artvilla.com    send a cool day it’s hot!

I was created to notice the cat,

catching butterflies.

If I were God

I would be lonely

and I would need

someone

to notice

how the cat catches butterflies

and brings them into the house

and how they are

to her as big a prize

as any mole or mouse.

***

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My cousin Ruthie and I founded the Chicken House Gazette in the chicken house. The chickens were gone by then. Somewhere in my life the chickens disappeared. We gathered paper, the kind with the wide lines, the grade school paper which had that smell of new school supplies, that once a year smell. We gathered paper. We cut articles out of magazines. We cut pictures. We glued and pasted our way to the first issue. We created two issues, one copy each. We sold out the first day, to my mother and to the neighbor Simpson across the creek.

Those were not the last issues of The Chicken House Gazette. Since those days my audience has grown slightly but I am still cutting and pasting the latest issues of my little Chicken House Gazette. My audience are still neighbors and friends across the creek which has turned into an ocean. It’s still the same small world!

Thank you neighbor.

david michael jackson   july 15,2012   editors@artvilla.com    send _____________