David Jackson

…..the sky is falling…..
there are blue
chunks in my yard
pieces of clouds are
hanging
on the trees
like gossamer
like cotton sheets
blowing in the wind
and if I look really closely
I can see my mother
with clothes pins in her mouth

and she’s hanging these

clouds and she’s

smiling

david michael jackson

And where have you been
chasing rainbows or chasing
rain
and where have you been
as the grass turns green
and she asks
where
where
where
are the flowers
and where have you been
calmer days always led to pastures
not to roads
to streams not to skyscrapers
calmer days were maybe not so calm
and I am not so young
and I am not too old
to pick flowers for her

david michael jackson

Changed channel,
It was clear the head was missing from the body
as it floated in the first shot of the show.
It was clear the stump was bloody.
Closeup of the bloody stump,
flash to handsome cop,
“I guess he must have lost his head.”,
Lifts shoulders,
close-up of giant dripping multiple stab wounds in back,
Flash to pretty girl cop,
“That’s from an assault knife”.
To lab
lift sheet, show stump.

Changed channel, this is too much!

Flash to pretty Forensic lady

holding hand of corpse,

gnarly gross hand.

pretty forensic lady grabs snips

cuts off  finger.

Changed the channel this is too much!

Report of kids being shot.

A Blueberry Muffin Poem

Blueberry muffins don’t have to have blueberries
The word blueberry is a marketing term for a product
you see
the blueberries you may remember
were in the muffins baked by your grandmother
a person
today’s blueberry muffins are baked by a corporation
a person,
except this person thinks propylene glycol is
a blueberry

 

The Real Bears

But now sugary drinks are the number one source of calories in the American diet.
With one third of America overweight and another third obese, it’s a wonder
anyone is still swallowing what the soda companies are selling.

You wrote poems to me
we had conversations
without ever speaking
You didn’t know me
I knew you
Some fans sit quietly,
leave quietly
but know they have heard you speak
in words called notes
which weave an improvised tale
like this improvised poem
up and down
with
tone
duration
volume and timbre.
It is the timbre of your life sir
that is the timber of jazz.

Dave Brubeck Interview The Dave Brubeck Quartet and Ralph J. Gleason.

timbre…..n. In acoustics, that characteristic quality of sounds produced from some particular source, as from an instrument or a voice, by which they are distinguished from sounds from other sources, as from other instruments or other voices

poem by David Michael Jackson