Six Favorite poems
of David Jackson
The weeping grows
the child lostthe child within lost
unremembered
fallen
fallen like the snow
quietly at night
with the last neon of the day
the last motor sound in the night beckons
follow me
follow me to the silence
to the silence of the lost child within
lost to the last drunk who fails
to the last conquerer who
fails
to the last breath which
fails
follow me to reason
for are we not all at least
reasonable
the last insanity of course is reason in an
unreasonable
situation
for it is the situation
which beckons without reason
there is no reason in the death of the child
there is no reason in the
universe
we can't blame the shark for eating the seal
and yet we expect our fellow man to
not eat us as he grabs for every bit of amoeba
like food
don't get in his way
don't get in my way
I am you
must find mewe must meet
having met, we must
meet again in the shadows of
truth
beauty shines through the window and
dances with the dust in the air
the cat sits by the window
watching the birds
I sit by the window with your memory
watching for you
in the birds
in the trees
we must meet across the river
in the shade of that tree
that tree we cling to
so the raging waters of the flood
may not drown us in our own
innocence
We were raised in Sugar Camp Hollow
on Passenger Creek
where them reb soldiers camped it is
said
and the confederate gold is buried there
or so the story goes
and I knew you there
and you and I both knew
to leave those grounds
where the small creek meets Passenger.
We both knew to leave
those grounds
before dark
You and I
shared the secrets of Sugar Camp Hollow,
them rebs,
that gold.
The neighbor Simpson
told the tale,
his skinny fingers
waving, pointing to that
spot where the springs
flow to create that
small
creek
that place
where dreams are
formed.
A poem for you
tonight
Sugar Camp Hollow
Passenger Creek,
them rebs,
that gold,
and I pause beside this spring
of remembrance
this moment is
a thin stream of water
flowing
from a tiny spring
somewhere
selfishness is essential in spring
as essential as giving
or love
and necessary for both
it is selfish to sit on the deck and
feel the spring air on my face and
do
nothing
what is it that I am doing
what is it that I want
is it the words which will throw themselves
across the horizon like those northern lights and lead you to
me
you too are fragile and
you too will surely break like the ice above the doorway when spring
hits you in the face
hits you with a lily in the yard or
ploughed earth
hits you just when you thought you were dead like the barren winter land
and you find yourself with seeds in your palm
and plans
It's too late tonight
for the bleeding hearts
or the burning stomachs
it's too late for the cries
of the hungry
for the
shit
to late for the shit
he shit will have to wait
for the boardrooms tomorrow
for the business
decisions
the shit will have to wait for executive decisions
because it's too late
for the shit
tonight
it's too late tonight for
compromise, for
reason
but
it's early enough for hope
but
it's early enough to try
anyway
will you try with me
says Mr. Rogers
will you try with me
for peace
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