Archive for January, 2011

23
Jan
11

softer than a dream

Her skin

Beneath

My fingertips-

Soft,

Supple,

Gently trembling.

Her breath

Against my neck-

Short,

Rapid,

Panting excitedly.

Her lips

Against mine-

Sweeter

And softer

Than a dream.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 21, 2011

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23
Jan
11

somebody within us

Hotel bar

With a few

Lingering

Drinkers,

With just a few

Too many

In their bloodstream-

Dissolving

Their livers

As well as

Their usual limitations

And sensibilities.

The awkward

Stumbling

Of slurred

Speech

And movements,

Creates

A messy ballet

Of dueling

Desire

And reason.

It’s such a play

Of humanity-

To shed

The normal routine

Of life

And replace it

With this other

Self

Who is not

Us,

But who

Is

Somebody

Within us.

The distance

Created

By the drinks

And the miles

From our regular

Existence

Puts us closer

To that person

Who is not us,

But who is.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 20, 2011

 

23
Jan
11

drinkers with expense accounts

Another

Hotel bar

Filled

With transient

Drinkers

With expense accounts

And long days

Of meetings

And business

Behind them-

Unaware of their ritual

Behaviors.

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 19, 2011

23
Jan
11

Movement to somewhere else

Muffled

Tippety-taps

Of laptop keyboards

Drift through

The cabin noise

And my pressurized ears.

My exit row seat

Does not “recline”

So my attempts

At rest

Are held hostage

By the fully upright

Position

And the occasional

Impact

Of the beverage cart

Or elbow

Of wobbly passengers.

Bleary eyes

And weary faces

Stare blankly ahead

Or into computer screens.

Crumpled suits

And dress shirts

With coffee stains

Blend into the enclosed scenery.

Soldiers,

Returning and departing,

Sit uncomfortably

In their uniforms-

Some nervously

Imagining

“Over there”.

Young mothers with children

Try to distract

Tired babies

With popping ears

And keep them

From crying.

As our destination

Approaches,

The sound of zippers

Opening

Fills the air

As personal belongings

Are once again

Stowed,

In preparation for landing.

Trash is collected,

Seatbacks returned

To upright positions

And tray tables

Are locked closed

Once more.

We’ll be there

Soon

And the overhead bins

Will pop open

As bags are retrieved

For the next phase

Of our movement

To somewhere else.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 19, 2011

23
Jan
11

Once again without me

My wife

And infant daughter

Are

Half a world

Away,

In Taiwan

With family.

My older daughter

Is at home

With her mother,

Gliding

Through her daily routine.

And I am,

Once again,

Strapped into my seat,

With my seatbelt

Low and tight

Across my waist

Several thousand feet

Above the ground

And between

Destinations.

Thoughts fly

Between worlds

And worries,

As I settle into

The impermanent

And the transitory.

Soon I’ll be

Shaking hands

And forgetting names

Of people

I’ll never see again,

While the ones filling my thoughts

Go about their day

Once again

Without me.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 19, 2011

03
Jan
11

untitled- January 3, 2011

She sits on the floor,

My tiny wife,

With our tiny daughter-

Who is growing

So fast

That she is no longer

Tiny.

Now

Nine months old

And already

Half her mother’s height,

She plays blissfully

Unaware

Of her own growth

And development

And even more

Unaware

Of her mother’s growth

As a mother.

The tiny woman

Who approached her

Pregnancy

With blissful ignorance

And very little fear,

Has become

Her own mother,

In many ways,

And without the convenience

Of proximity-

With her family

Half a globe

Away.

When our daughter was born,

The fear finally settled in,

As the

“What now”

Gripped her.

But now,

After just nine months

Of hands-on motherhood,

She has blossomed

And risen to the challenge

Of caring for

And shaping

A beautiful little life.

Her smiles

And laughter

Are so relaxed

And genuine-

Signs of a quiet

Strength

That only a mother

Can possess.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 3, 2011




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