Archive for October, 2008

26
Oct
08

untitled 10/25/08

Her tiny

Snores

Shatter

The quiet

As I sit

Here

Trying to find the words

That have been

Trapped

In my head

And trying (hoping)

To escape.

Like a puppy

With a sinus

Problem,

Her little

Grunts

Reach me

Here

As I type

Away

With a grin

And a growing

Love

For her.

She’ll giggle

Tomorrow

When I tell

Her

About her little pig-like noises,

With that

Self-involved joy

That

Only a child

Should possess.

She’ll probably

Spend the morning

Imitating the sounds

In an attempt

To make me laugh

With her.

When she was

A newborn,

I would

Stand

Over her crib

To listen to her breathe

And watch

Her

Tiny chest

Rise and fall,

Praying that each breath would not be her last and that she would live to be the oldest person ever.

That fear

Keeping me

Awake

For nearly two years.

And now,

Her sounds

No longer

Startle me,

But

I still stand

Over her

And watch her

Breathing

In the dark

Of her room,

Praying

That her life

Is always

A good one.

Timothy Vance Jackson

10/25/08

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26
Oct
08

Written on a plane…

Thirty Thousand

Another

Flight

And the chance

To let

My thoughts

Wander

At thirty thousand feet

Above my life.

Another

Flight

Towards home

And my daughter.

Thirty thousand

Feet

And too many miles

Separate

Me

From my daughter

And the greatest

Gift

In my life.

****

(untitled)

Her petite

Body

Is down

There,

Somewhere,

Beneath me.

As I fly

Back

To my

Empty bed,

She goes

On

With her life

And her day.

****

(untitled)

Sitting

In the middle

Seat

Of an

Oversold flight

Home.

Thinking

And thinking

Of the flight

In a few

Days

That

Takes me

To

The other side

Of the globe

And once again

Away

From my daughter

But closer

To my love.

The poignant

Struggle

Between

These halves

Of my mind

And my heart

Leaves me

Feeling

Dizzy

At times

And often

Distracted

By different

Wantings.

****

(untitled)

How

Should I

Say this?

How

Should I

Explain this

To my self?

How do I

Find my

Thoughts

And

Hold them

Down

Long enough

To understand

Them

Finally?

Where

Are

The

Words?

Timothy Vance Jackson

10/24/08

12
Oct
08

untitled 10/12/08

At the age

Of

Nearly 40,

I have

Those

Moments of

Realization

That I am

Still trying

To grow up

And be

An adult

Finally.

I recognize

That

There are so

Many things

I still do

Not

Know.

As my second ex-wife, and mother of my daughter, has always said- “you never know what it is that you don’t know until you realize you don’t know it.”

Too true.

I’m realizing

Too many things

These days.

Timothy Vance Jackson

10/12/08

06
Oct
08

8,000

8,000

Miles away

My beautiful

Love

Sits at work

A day

Ahead

Of me

And a world

Away.

The time and space

Between us

Causes

A shift

In the wrinkle

Of reality-

As I say goodnight

And head off to bed,

She prepares

For lunch

And an evening I will not have until many hours later.

As we say

Good night

And good morning

Simultaneously,

She settles back

Into her work

And I shuffle

Off

To bed,

To dream

Of her

And the next

Time

We are face to face and in the same place in time,

Where skin can

Touch

And lips can

Meet.

Timothy Vance Jackson

10/5/08

05
Oct
08

untitled 10/4/08

Sitting alone

In the semi dark

As my daughter sleeps off

The remnants of a cold

And my love

Prepares to board a plane

Back

To an 8,000 mile away

Home,

I sip a beer

And listen

To music

And the sound

Of falling rain

On the overcooked

Asphalt.

Even in the dark

Of the evening,

I can see

And smell

The steam rising

Off the street.

Sweet melancholy

Drenches me,

While the rain

Soaks

The ground outside.

Within a few days

Things will be

Greener outside

And a little greyer

Inside.

Timothy Vance Jackson

10/4/08

05
Oct
08

Rain

The light

Shines

Through the tiny drops

Of golden rain

As it falls

Lightly

Upon the street

Outside

My Window.

The sound

Of wet tires

Rolls up my

Stairs

To meet me

As the passing

Cars

Speed by

To their destinations

And dry

Garages.

From here,

With my front door

Open,

I can smell

That

Familiar

Yet infrequent

Smell

Of wet asphalt

And the approach

Of Fall

In San Diego.

It’s like

A mild summer

Here,

This time of year,

As the days

Grow

Shorter

And the heat

Decreases-

Slightly.

These unexpected

Rains

Not only wash

Streets

And leave my car covered in dirty spots,

But wash away

A Summer’s weight

Of dust

And skin cracking

Dryness.

By morning there will be

Little

Traces

Of this rain

Ever coming-

Save for those dirty little spots and streaks all over my car.

And a few memories

To last

Until next year.

Timothy Vance Jackson

10/4/08




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