Archive for August, 2009

22
Aug
09

Size

She’s standing

Barefoot

In the kitchen

Peeling vegetables

At the sink.

The edge

Of the counter

Comes up to the middle

Of her torso,

But is below my waist.

Her tininess

Is never lost

On me

As I watch her

Glide

Elegantly

Through

What looks like

An over-sized world

For her.

When I stand

In her home

Back in Taiwan,

It looks comically

Different,

And I live up to

The name

Given to me

By the nieces and nephews-

Uncle Giant.

But now,

It is my kitchen,

Our kitchen,

The does not fit

Her.

My seemingly over-sized

World

And her

Petite beauty

Clash

With foot stools

And crammed

Lower shelves-

Fewer and fewer items

Have homes

On high shelves

And the lower shelves

Are now overflowing.

Yet we fit

Hand in hand

Without problems

And with ample

Happiness.

Timothy Vance Jackson

August 22, 2009

22
Aug
09

The edges

There’s a lot

Going on

In my head

These days.

“Soul searching”

Is too simple

A term to use

And too melodramatic

As well.

It’s more

Of a scouring

The edges

Of my mind

To find answers

To questions

I haven’t asked yet

Because of the fear.

Timothy Vance Jackson

August 22, 2009

22
Aug
09

The words and the searching

It’s been a while

Since

I put the headphones

On

And slipped into

The dark,

Sitting on the steps

Of my apartment

With a cigar

Held tightly

Between my lips

And sipped a scotch

Or glass of port

With a fountain pen

And paper

To write

On.

Squinting

Against the smoke

Blowing

Back into my eyes

As I search

And search

And search for

The ever elusive words to convey the swirling and rushing emotions flying through my mind.

The last

Remaining

Cigars

Of my pathetic

Collection

Are now dry

And cracked,

But are calling

To me-

Asking me to search

Again

For words.

Just for words-

The meanings

Are

Less important

Than the words themselves.

The words

And the act

Of searching

And sitting

In the dark

With smoke

In my eyes-

The words and the searching.

Timothy Vance Jackson

August 22, 2009

22
Aug
09

Rest

Feeling the need

To unplug

From it all

And disappear

For just a bit-

Long enough

To find myself

Again.

The daily fights

And power struggles,

Have left me

Drained

And lifeless,

Wondering

Why.

I need a rest

And to quiet

The voices

Of disagreement

And discontent.

It’s time

To drink in

The happiness

That I have

Had to let go of

In order

To hold my sword

And my shield.

My arms are tired

And the battle is

Too long

To hold

My attention

Any longer.

Timothy Vance Jackson

August 22, 2009

21
Aug
09

Breathing

The wind is blowing

Through the glass chimes

That were purchased

When my daughter was still an infant

And the glass angel

Caught her eye

And then her fingers

In the local shop.

Allegedly,

We’ll see rain tonight,

In southern California.

The air is damp

With rare humidity

As the chimes clink

And the curtains blow

In and out

Against the window-

As if the apartment

Is breathing

Deep,

Heavy breaths.

Timothy Vance Jackson

August 21. 2009

21
Aug
09

Red roses

Staring at the roses

On the kitchen table,

Given to my bride

On Chinese Valentine’s day,

Our first

As husband and wife.

The music floats

In the air,

Much lighter than I,

Filling the small apartment

With more

Than just my heavy head.

We sit

Side by side

With our computers

Glowing in the low light

Of night in our home-

Her screen

A dizzying landscape

Of Mandarin characters

And faces

From somewhere

Far

Away from here.

The kitchen is filled

With the smell of foods

From across a vast ocean,

But there is no distance

Between us-

Where we sit

Or how we live.

Pictures from the wedding

Are still fresh

And full of crisp memories

From just a few months ago

In Taiwan.

Timothy Vance Jackson

August 21, 2009

21
Aug
09

Untitled 8/21/09

Wind blows through the windows

And ruffles the curtains

As the cool So-Cal evening

Air

Is filled

With the rare humidity

Of possible rain

In summer.

In the distance,

Sirens wail

As an ambulance

Races

To a nearby hospital,

Temporarily disturbing the peace

And calm

Of the music playing

In the background

Of my apartment-

Her voice

Painting

A picture of love lost

And sadness found.

The warm fruitiness

Of the red wine

Lingers on my tongue

As the alcohol evaporates

And I become

Lighter

With the weight of it all

Shrinking

And beginning to break apart.

Before long,

I may find myself

On the porch

With a cigar

Clenched between my teeth,

Drawing in the taste

Of the smoke

And watching the rings

Dissipate

Into the air.

Timothy Vance Jackson

August 21, 2009




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