I miss her

I miss her

Tiny fingers

Curled around mine

And the sounds

Of her

Growing

And changing

As she

Expands

Into the world

That has been

Waiting

For her

To arrive.

Across the globe,

With her mother,

Visiting family

And a country

That is hers

By birth

And passport.

The distance

Has been

Surreal

And difficult

To adjust to-

Even technology

Has failed

To close the gap

And seal the wound

Caused by the miles.

In a few more

Weeks

I will

Hold her

And her mother

In my arms

Once more.

Until then

I continue

To look at her

Pictures

Again and again-

Sometimes

With a smile

And sometimes

With a tear.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

February 16, 2011

Advertisements

Spitting truths

It never

Ceases

To amaze me

How people become experts

On everything

After a few drinks-

Spouting facts

And spitting

Truths

Through slurred

Speech,

Perched upon

Wobbly legs,

Or teetering

On bar stools.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

February 12, 2011

Whispers of love eternal

Valentine’s Day

Alone

In a hotel-

Eating

Alone

And toasting no one.

No kisses,

No hugs,

No wishes

To be fulfilled

With arms wrapped around me

And whispers

Of love

Eternal.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

February 14, 2011

 

another hotel bar

Another

Hotel bar

In

Another city,

Again.

Another

Beer,

Alone-

Again.

Away

From home

And family,

Again.

Observing

Humanity

And the animals

We are-

The beasts

Of habit

And ritual

We have become

Over millenia

Of living

And surviving-

Somehow.

The more

Difference,

The greater

The distance,

The less

Things change.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

February 10, 2011

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

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

 

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