POEMS

At Night I Fly
Dedicated to Barney Rosset

I go where the wind hides
When it's not blowing.

I watch the clouds gobble
Up the moon.
I see my thoughts, my feelings,
My love crash
Like seas on ships.

I stand on top of swords and spears.
I walk up on endless staircases and mountains
On the tips of giant nails
Drinking spirits out of huge goblets.

My heart pounds against no chest.
I know not what to tell it
Crowded in solitude.
Too many souls alone to be
One body.

The moon's a defaced minted silver dollar.
It sleeps alone in its own universe.
No longer a star.

Today I died.
I died yesterday and tomorrow.
At night I fly.

© Spoon Jackson

Heart of the High Desert

Stretched out here on this bunk
my mind drifts and dreams
within itself
searching for a poem

Ocean winds,
gentle breezes
find their way through the bars.
Through the bars
a sparrow sings
and it’s mellifluous melody
is all about love

Ninety degrees hotter
I’d be warm

The wildflower takes its
first breath of air
after a generous rainfall…

I grew up in the Mojave
in a small town
in the heart of the high desert.
The only place I’d been
till they brought me here.
I’d stand on Crocks Street
and look at the mountains that surrounded me.
They appeared to be the whole world.
How naive was I.

I was nineteen when I got busted
That same day
I’d signed up for the Marines.
Wanted to see the world

They kept me in a cell
on the corner
off to myself.
The City Jail’s across from the high school
and I couldn’t see
but I heard the sounds of the games
those football games I’d gone to
my whole life in that town

My nephew wrote me a letter
first time in the ten years I’ve been here.
He wrote he remembers
I taught him to drive,
to whistle.
He remembers us washing my car.
He wrote: ”Dear Uncle Stanley.”

Stinging memories that had been lost.
Sadness of the heart.
Frowns of the face.

Every wrinkle on my face
is but a harbinger
of joy fighting
to overtake the sadness
of the heart

Remember

When I walk or fly
out of this place
no one will remember
how the birds came to me
as friends and shared bread

No one will remember
how I planted a garden
of flowers and spices
in a space where growth
is prohibited

No one will remember
the Shakespeare and my poems
I read in hostile classes

I should have known
that once the trees
were all chopped down
like unarmed soldiers
I would be transferred.

©2011 Spoon Jackson
 

Long Sunset 

(for Tory in New York 2002)

“Art withers without fellowship“

Poetry day in visiting

a jam session, first one ever

Poet Tory is here from

New York and Ann from the Bay

We recited poetry by the micro

and folks listened

we hummed poetry at the table

and still others listened

we played poetry dominoes

and Uno were the winner

recites a poem

The desert, the Bay, The Big Apple

street wise, heart holding

fast hitting, race car, concrete

stomping poetry

Balanced against a dark desert night
full of stars and moons

the New York poet longs to see

she tells me of the winds

in New York, funneled between

buildings the size of mountains

How the long shadows darken

and shorten the day

The Bay poet shows pictures

and speaks of the forest

both telling me of children

never to get old

Poetry slamming off the walls

off the bars, the vending machines

off the cards, tables and chairs

off the grass and dusty skies

Poetry slamming free, bold and cold

one way in and many ways out

I hope you get to see the stars

and long, sunsets you spoke of

or was it long skies?

© Spoon Jackson

Light Pole                                     

I

What is this place

I am in?

One foot in darkness

one foot in light?

What is this place?

Where dark buzzards circle

morning, noon and night ?

What is this place

I am in?

Where Amtrak trains whistle

by unseen tracks

on the other side of the mountains?

II

I sit at the base of the light pole

All around me there are people

on the basketball court

Three Mexican-Americans are doing burpies

listening to soft rock music on the radio.

Across the basketball court

multi-colored Christians come together

to pray to their God.

While African-Americans slap

dominoes on the concrete tables

behind me

I sit at the light pole

reading Shakespeare.

© Spoon Jackson

Cave

Standing in this cave

looking out this crack

Of a window

Hoping there will be

an angle

A path for the sun

to blink in through

the tiny slit

in this hulk of stone

This place where

they do not believe in trees

as though they're evil

spirits

There are none here

no bluebirds singing

no crickets fiddling

only unnecessary chatter

Nothing

Even the sky's diluted

by illusions of power

The wind carries the sounds

that are refused to be

heard

The whips and whispers

of the night

cannot understand this

apathy against trees

I long to go

to a rich flowing meadow

where flowers bloom

with retribution

© Spoon Jackson

Paws  For Life

Their barks and wags

In the mornings
Eased my mind
And hugged my heart

Each morning I smiled
Instead of frowned
The dogs were two days from death
When rescued, and sent to prison
To start their lives over

There was Oreo
Who I always loved from a distance
I did not know how to get closer

There was Eddie
The spotted dude
Who looked like he smiled
Whenever he looked at you

There was Chewy
Bold and semi-bow legged walk
And white nose
Who sometimes loved to bark
To let you know he was alive

Then there was Shelby
Little princess, smooth
Beaded black fur

Don't get it twisted
She had the energy of the sun
Who never stopped
Playing and loved water
As much as air
Who softened everyone's heart
Even old poets

Finally, there was Randall
Regal and witty
He was my buddy
From the start, a philosopher
Cool and calm

They all left today
And as I look out of my cell
At the five vacant sheds that housed them
I am that emptiness

© Spoon Jackson

Round and round

When there's love
there is no distance
between two points
For you are already there.

You search for love
You go places
you really don't want to go
You see people
you don't want to see
Say and do things
you really don't want to say
nor do.

You let there be no silence
from fear
of your not being liked.

Stop seeking a shadow in darkness
when love is staring at you.

© Spoon Jackson

Stricken

I remember that Sunday morning tune

you snapping, snap beans for dinner

while Rock Doves cooed in the oak trees

I thought you were the strongest person ever

I thought you were an ancient redwood 

protected by a loving light from some heaven.

My mother, I knew you would live forever

like those goddesses and Mothers of Ethiopian,

Greek, Roman, Asian and Indian tales.

I thought you were immortal like love

indestructible by time and pain.

Then I came to prison even after

you told me not to carry that knife

that held my fate.

My brother Abe told me tales of how some

disease with sugar ruthlessly consumed your body.

He told me something called a stroke

had stricken you twice and laid

you helpless and bedridden for years.

How you could not speak anymore
how the goddess mother you are had left.

How life before everlasting and eternity

is a cruel snake wrapping about the throat.

Heaven must have been that morning

on the porch beside my mother as she

snapped, snap beans

© Spoon Jackson

Beyond

The butterfly

that stays inside you

that never comes out

or is seen by the naked eye

from the fear

it might die

Perhaps too shy

too distant to come

out and play

perhaps too bombarded

with unrealness

to know what you

have to say is okay

Baby, make a way

make a way

for the butterfly

inside you that cannot die

and for all she has to say

Let her soar

let her dream

let her create

let her fly beyond

the minds eye

beyond the sky and unrealness

beyond the fear

she might die

Your beauty, your wisdom

your light, your power

lives beyond death

beyond the naked eye

Remember sometimes

you must fall

sometimes you must

stretch

sometimes you must

walk

sometimes you must

glide

sometimes you must

die

sometimes you must

die
before you fly 

© Spoon Jackson

  
Realness Goddess

I think of you and long

to see you –

your smiles and belly laugh

shakes up the sky

and the sun shines brighter

just to touch your skin

When you whisper

the forest stands still

the owls lean their ears

the mountains and clouds

share a warm kiss

The sea and shores

become lovers

while the beaches long

to lathe your toes

Earth Mother spins

proud

when she thinks of you

© Spoon Jackson

Saga

She spoke to me 

in Swedish

sweet chopping mellifluous words

I sat there wide eyed

and open eared

and listened

I didn’t have the faintest

idea what she said

but it filled my heart

with bird song

© Spoon Jackson

Sweet delights

He sat there until

he was nothing

drifting like air

until he was everything

a part of the whole

a whole of the part

He sat there past

the dawn of stars

He wanted to go

where peace hangs out

like a welcome home sign

Where silence is not

looked upon as mental illness

He wondered when poets 

like pop rap or rock stars

have sweet delights

thrown at them on stage

© Spoon Jackson

Hope

I´ll be released one day

By a beautiful real life

Or a beautiful real death

At the time dwelling in fear

That my own death could be near

Hope touched my heart deeply

And released me from my fear

She gave me joy

She gave me peace

Never to give up

Even in death

Even in life

Hope touched my mind

Freed me to see

Even when you are

Not in my conscious mind

One way or another

I am released

From my fear

And the simple things

Of life come clear

You help me stand

Above the strife

Hand in hand we soar

You give me life

You give me joy

You give me peace

Never to give up

At the time dwelling in fear

That my own death

Could be near

She calms my soul

And releases me

And links me to Mother Earth

By a beautiful real life

Or a beautiful real death

© Spoon Jackson 2008

No Beauty in Cellbars

Restless, unable to sleep

Keys, bars, guns being racked

Year after year

Endless echoes

of steel kissing steel

Noise

Constant yelling

Nothing said

Vegetating faces, lost faces

dusted faces.

A lifer

A dreamer

Tomorrow's a dream

Yesterday's a memory

Both a passing of a cloud

How I long

for the silence of a raindrop

falling gently to earth

The magnificence of a rose

blooming in it's many hues of color

The brilliance of a rainbow

when it sweetly lihgts up the sky

after a pouring rainfall

Picnics in a rich green meadow

We saw the beauty in butterflies

we made them our symbol

Tiny grands of sand

One hour glass

A tear that may engender

a waterfall

The memories

the dreams

are now

Love is now

There's no beauty in cellbars

© Spoon Jackson 

Beauty in cell bars

 
We lock ourselves up
not because of the bars and
steel that surround us
not because life doesn't bend
to our every whim

But because of the projections
we place onto our worlds
The judgements, the I can'ts
The trying to please everyone
while not pleasing ourselves

By seeking the beauty on the outside
that is surely within
For prisons are created internally
and are found everywhere

We allow unnatural and unreal thoughts
to be our walls,our limits
Because of the dam we build to
stop the universal love, the light

It's all within ourselves
this paradise you go to of beauty
and love
There's peace, where along with the
eagle you may sore
A place inside that was inspired
from the inner and above
which are one and the same

The world may not bend to
your every whim
But, it will flow wherever you
want it to go,
where it's supposed to go
There's beauty in cellbars

© Spoon Jackson

Nothing will be decided

Nothing will change despite

the state of flux

the world purports to be in.

The suicides and great depression

of souls

will continue to take its toll.

Nothing will change

how the churches preach

community

but practice disunity.

The small farmers who live tight

with Mother Earth will die out

while the big farmers will live smug

with chemicals and carelessness

Nothing will change

how the poor and meek will be shoved

aside like grains of sand

For villas, golf courses, bomb sites

and private wars

the government will pretend to be

stuck in limbo yet, quell and kill

protestors

Nothing will change how some governments

will boast of colonizing space

not knowing the universe will have

none of that

when you cannot even colonize the space

in your heart and soul with peace,

love and realness.

Nothing will change how like putting

batteries in a flash light

will be the only time you shine.

© Spoon Jackson

Sweet sorrow
 

When sorrows come
they come not as a single spies
but in battalions.

This year I am constantly
embracing sorrows
and then letting them go
I am inviting sunshine in
and there are endless seeds
planted ready to grow

But so far this year more
sorrows come, some sweet, some bitter

I'll keep being real

I'll keep being love

I'll keep being real
beyond labels and names
I'll keep being love
beyond the sorrows, pain and heartache
I'll keep being real
beyond hate.

Still I wonder; how much sorrow
can I take.

© Spoon Jackson 2010

Mountain

Yes, you are a mountain, divine

strong, majestic, deep and free

always reaching and growing

You rise above and through

it all,

your love, wisdom and beauty

keeps you tall

Mother Earth places silver

clouds around your crest

A protective light blessed

by Mother Moon.

no you will never fall

into the sea

and crumble at anyones knees

your visions, your deepest pain

and sorrows transformed

into art and truth

you are a mountain,

mountain of love, light

and wild freedom

your once abandoned meadows

have blossomed into lush valleys

of truth and growth

The bitterest fruit turned sweet

in your presence. And you

have always been a mountain, divine

majestic and free even when

you did not know it.

© Spoon Jackson 2010

Nothing to Prove

no power outside myself
could get inside me
unless I open a door or window

my battle has always
been self imposed from within

I am me enough now
and free enough now
to let the light pour
in like a strong sea breeze

and I have nothing

to prove

all I´ve got now is truth

A truth that trumps

any fears

to be anybody or anything

I am not.

© Spoon Jackson 2010

Passion

She sits by the window
spilling her light
down dark streets

Passion, she gives her
all, without judgement
she lets go to hold
on tight

Passion, she gives her all, to all

but is possessed by

none

she sits in the sky

like Diana, a full moon

© Spoon Jackson