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


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                                     


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?


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


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

There are none here
no bluebirds singing
no crickets fiddling
only unnecessary chatter

Even the sky's diluted
by illusions of power
The wind carries the sounds
that are refused to be

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


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


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
sometimes you must
sometimes you must
sometimes you must
sometimes you must
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
when she thinks of you

© Spoon Jackson


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


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

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
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
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


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


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
she sits in the sky
like Diana, a full moon

© Spoon Jackson


1 comment:

  1. I only had time to read a couple of poems; wonderful. I will bookmark this page and come back soon. Spoon, I did 4 years and found I can write poetry in prison just the same as you. Funny, I read on your blog you want to go to a meadow to see the flowers. That's what I wanted to do and have done since I left prison; I longed to see the sea and a wide open sky. I sometimes miss the raw beauty of prison, there was so much to write about in there that is missing out here. I am also a photographer. I can send you some photo's of the sea and the sky if you like. If your people contact me on FaceBook, my name; Jamie Gibbons (Twisted Existence) or my e-mail; freedomrhymer@gmail.com. Take care friend...Jamie....