One For The Road

The Friday night

Drunks

Parade

Outside my window,

Stumbling

Along the sidewalk

To their cars

Or another bar,

Loudly

Shuffling their feet

And yelling

At each other-

A drunk’s sense

Of volume

Is seriously impaired.

The screaming

Yields to laughter,

Yields to more screaming,

And eventually yields

To silence.

Car doors slam

Closed,

As clumsy hands

Fumble

For lost keys

And companionship.

Bottles drop

To the street

Loudly

Shattering

The near calm

Of the fast approaching morning.

Tires squeal

As collisions

Are somehow avoided,

And laughter erupts

With the vanishing

Of taillights

In the distance

At the end

Of the street.

Timothy Vance Jackson

May 25, 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

Searching

Searching for

Words,

For meaning,

For peace,

For rest,

For dreams,

For my self.

 

Staring at

The emptiness

Waiting to be filled,

By words,

By answers,

With hope.

 

Hoping

To find the missing pieces and answers to the questions that have haunted me for far too long.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

March 3, 2012

existential

I need

To find

A way to sleep,

The real sleep

That is accompanied

By rest

And a quiet mind.

***

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

reasons

As I fumble

In the dark

To find

The bed

Without

Waking

The baby,

Clinging

To her mother,

Top of head

Barely

Protruding

From beneath

The blanket

Pulled up tight

To my wife’s

Chin,

I remember

Why.

I remember why,

At least

Until morning

Arrives.

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 22, 2011

Free me

Free me

From this

Place

Within

My self,

Where doubt

Is King

And rules over

Reality

Without cause

Or reason.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 20, 2011

between sips

There comes a point,

Probably

Somewhere

Between

The third or fourth

Drink,

Where

The words

Either flow

Or come to a halt.

Somewhere,

In the middle

Of the fluid chaos,

There exists

A place

Where

Balance reigns-

Even if only for a moment

Between sips

And empty glasses.

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 8, 2011

quandary

How do you say

To the entire

World

The things

On your mind

Without

The entire

World

Knowing

What is

On your mind?

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 8, 2011