again

Again,

I find myself

Haunted

By memories

Of her-

Skin

So soft,

And

Hair like silk,

Between my fingers,

As I inhale

Her

Into

My lungs

And memory.

The smell

Of her,

So permanent

After all this time,

As so many things

Fade

From memory.

The taste of her,

Forever

On the tip of my tongue,

And

Always

Within reach

Of memory,

Haunts me

Sweetly.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

March 31, 2012

sunset

I can still

See

And feel

The cracker crumbs

On the blanket,

With bits

Of cheese

And sweating cold cuts

In the setting sun.

Wine

In plastic cups,

And memories

Being born,

As the day

Ended

In a burst

Of color

Before fading

Into a darkened horizon.

A thin blanket

Over our shoulders,

And arms

Around

Each other,

Fighting

The chill

And desire

To leave for the car

And the heater.

Wanting

To stay

There

In that moment-

Shivering

For so many reasons.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

March 20, 2012

fragmentia

She lies

There,

Tangled in a bed

Of knotted sheets

And missing pillows,

With her dark hair

And darker eyes,

Shining

In the morning light

Piercing

Through the still

Of breathlessness.

***

I still feel

Her skin

When my eyes

Are closed

And she is

No longer

Beside me-

The softness

And the warmth

Of her touch,

And her breath,

Against my neck,

As our bodies

Ignite

With contact.

***

The stray

Long black hair,

Clinging to my clothes,

Waiting

For me

To find it,

And remember her.

***

Her smell

Sticks to my skin

Briefly,

But she is

Permanently

In my memory,

Long after

I am

No longer able

To distinguish

Her

From myself.

Timothy Vance Jackson

March 13, 2012

Old lusts

Old lusts

And hurts

Come running

Back to the surface

With the sound

Of a voice

In an old song

From a different

Time

In my life-

Neither good

Nor bad.

An emotional

Scrapbook

Of music,

With yellowed

And tattered

Edges,

And faded images,

But the memories

Still vivid

With all the same colors,

Smells,

Feelings,

Longings,

And confusion.

I can still

See her

Eyes

And hear her

Voice,

Telling me

As awkwardly as she could

That “it’s over”-

The mole above her lip

Danced

As her lips moved

And my ears

Filled

With the white noise

Of rushing blood

And a broken heart.

So many years later,

And multiple marriages,

The memories of those teenage years and teenage music

Are renewed,

Even if only

Until the end of the song.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 14, 2012

 

momentary loss of concentration

Between the moments

Of work

And life,

My mind often

Drifts

Away

From the constant glow

Of the screen

In front

Of me.

Lingering over

Her

Body

And her lips

Pressed

Against mine,

Embracing

With arms

And legs

Entwined

Again.

Forever.

Between

The spreadsheets

And numbers

And emails

And calls to be returned,

The curves

Of her

Return

To me,

Like the scent

Of a distant flower

On a long ago night

From my childhood

Memories

Growing up in Alabama-

Maybe a magnolia,

Or perhaps

Honeysuckle.

So soft and subtle,

Yet noticeably

There-

Distinctly sweet

And delicate.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 29, 2011

the finding

I find

Myself

Between

The words

And the searching.

In the friction

Between

The finding

And the

Wanting,

I exist

In the space

Left empty

By the process.

In the uneasy

Peace

That exists

In the emptiness

Of time

Between

Fulfillment

And need,

I linger

With growing

Anxiousness

And desire

For more.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 27, 2011

imperfect

For as hard

As it has been

For me

To accept that

I am

An imperfect man,

It has been

Harder

For me

To fight

To overcome

That imperfection

And strive

To be

Better

Than

My weaknesses.

The willingness

To allow

The easiness

Of frail

Human weakness

To prevail

Is stronger

Than the

Ability

To overcome

The inertia

Of stillness.

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 22, 2011

memories of her

Her image

Haunts

Me

In every dark

And solitary

Moment,

Where I am

Able

To remember

The feel

Of her

Skin

And the smell

Of her

In my nose,

Or the taste

Of her on my lips.

Her smile

Brightens

My darkness,

From miles

And distant

Memories.

The curve of her

Eyebrows

Hovering

Above

Her beautiful

Dark eyes-

Asking,

Speaking,

Telling,

Inviting.

Her bottom lip,

Playfully

And deliciously

Held between

Her teeth,

Hinting

And suggesting

So much more than words could ever dream of saying.

She’ll be there,

Forever

Wrapped

In rustled sheets,

Buried

Deep

In my memory

And under my skin.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

November 8, 2011

Toward and away

I dream

To feel

Her

Beneath

My fingertips

And my body,

Pressed tightly

To me-

Breathing

As if

One.

My lips

Ache

To touch

Her skin

And yearn

For the delicate

Taste

Of her

Sweetness.

I can

Remember

And see

Each chill bump

On her skin

And every arching

And curving

Toward and

Away from

Each touch

And caress.

I can hear

Each shortened

Breath,

Hot

Against my neck,

With eyes wide open,

Skin flushed with color

And the air

Electric

Between us.

Timothy Vance Jackson

October 16, 2011

In the other room

They’ve gone

To sleep

In the other room-

Snorts and grunts

And tiny snores

Float

Into my ears

As they twist

And turn

In their beds,

With blankets

Trapped

Around their legs.

Once in a while

I sneak in

To check

On them-

Just to

See them

At rest.

The daughters

And the wife,

All unaware

Of my watching

From the edge

Of their

Sleep.

Each rise

And fall

Of their tiny chests

Fills me with the hope of a new day and life filled with their voices and periodic pauses to say “I love you”, as they race away again.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

September 22, 2011