You ask about love,
there was a girl with chestnut hair,
but that is song.
You ask about love,
we wandered in the sunshine
and barely noticed it was there.
Ah but those are memories
and I wander in my poem.
Animals are people and
memories are love,
Animals are people and
memories are love.
There was a cat.
There was a bird.
There is a cat.
There is a bird.
There was a poem,
it wafted in the breeze,
left a slight scent in the air,
like the girl with chestnut hair,
then was gone.
I guess I never knew how
and maybe I didn’t do so well
at pleasing you
or being good when
I should have been good
for you
I guess I never knew how
and maybe I didn’t do so well
but I tried
I tried
I tried
I turned the wheel
I turned the wheel
I held the door when I could
I held your hand to remember
yes I tried
I tried
I tried
and when the wind runs in the trees
the trees say I love you
and when the rivers run to the sea
we’ll be there
we’ll be there
I guess I never knew how
and maybe I didn’t do so well
at showing you how I feel.
I turned the wheel
I turned the wheel
I held the door when I could
I held your hand to remember.
The ocean waves end at the shore
with the sounds of our love
and when the wind runs in the trees
the trees say I love you
and when the rivers run to the sea
we’ll be there
we’ll be there
we’ll be there
A spring and you’ve made it
A spring and a song
and no lady in the rain
enough
he said
where are you
where have you been
You’ve gone quantum on me
You’re only there when I look for you
in the metaphor
or the wind
and the rocks.
Is it time to be a rock again
Is it time for an infinity
unreachable in it’s tiny corner
like a point getting smaller than
I
am a bone already
and that’s all that’s left of me
THIS
these dry dry bones left here for you to find
in my own little Pompeii of brittle words
David Michael Jackson
I am an ant pushing a stick
at the end of summer.
I carry a parcel of leaf
to deliver wherever
the scent takes me.
I have no leader
and still move mountains.
My cousin, the butterfly,has no brains but can fly to Peru.
Can you?
I am an ant pushing a stick and
all of your philosophy
can’t move that stick
or find an explanation
for me.
We are both tied to the end of summer,
lashed to the season’s,
of this one mooned earth.
like flowers we open to the light
and close our eyes at night
and we look to the sky,
the late summer sky,
and return to pushing our stick.
david michael jackson
I knew nothing of the war
except what they told me,
that it was for freedom.
All I really remember is the boy
lying on a concrete slab.
I remember the dried blood on his cheeks.
I can’t make out the race so well,
he’s a brownish boy
just lying there with his
bullet wounds,
staring that stare.
His arms are at his side in
the photo
and he’s lying on his back
on this grey slab.
That’s all I remember, really,
just the boy.
No soccer matches for him,
Mom won’t take him in the SUV.
He’s lying on his back on that concrete slab
No one called the police.
It won’t be on the news.
They won’t interview the parents and
seek our help to
find
the
killer.
There will be more
at
ten.