Amy Jackson

Writings 2013


Deco

purple Summer beneath diamond sky goddess
forest mother sleep after red day
swim here
recall these from languid
Sun and water and one

from lazy garden feet
together must beat
like cool mist sea

worship
be
soar

above though time moan

picture when ships were beauty gowns

please say hot honey light
woman shine moon delirious
what the lather said
urges her bitter blue rose

gorgeous language shadow whispers



you chant: why love dreams on ...





June 16, 2013

Amy Jackson

 

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Crevices

Walking the well-walked trail
Shaking the well-shook tree of nerves
Shaken, that is me
Deep in the deepest sea of neurons
Seeing me lost in the messiest me
The mirror is cracked as it can be
In v’s and x’s oh it’s a mess, yes
That would be me in the crevices
In the intersections where the light
And the dark only bring more questions.

 

7/26/13

Amy Jackson

 

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We Knew

Jim Thompson’s sweet God mouth told me all about
Galveston’s rebel island past of oleander and mobs.
I told him about trying to stay Godlike in the midst of a deep South
Georgia that was fast disappearing while still being deep South
Underneath:   the cousins loving cousins sex club like was
Bubbling up underneath MY mouth covered up like boils to stay
GODlike. I couldn’t tell sweet Jim Thompson that in 2013:  about
My 1967 1968:  but we both teared up at the mention of John F.
Kennedy. We knew all about that man’s mixed up GODness.
I mentioned Obama:  we spoke of politics and the mix: enough said.

 

7/26/13

Amy Jackson

 

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Roots Still Red

This poem published in 10/15 by Calliope Magazine, Nashville, TN.

7/26/13

Amy Jackson

 

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