Jerry Buckley Poems

As you know, I have never been very good with electronic gadgets of any sort.

I haven't figured out how to use even half the features on my cell phone. I always need to have help in even setting the time on my digital watch: and so I'm now embarked upon another exercise in futility I'm sure. However, I am doing my clumsy best to program my new "XM Radio" satellite receiver, which you gave me for Christmas; trying to figure out how I can program one unique "My Favorites" channel.
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How proudly then, you wear the mantle;
'American Nightingale'.
Enter into evidence the royal crown,
the streamlined torso, the twitching tail.
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Something about the angle, the tossing of the head to one side;
as if in defiance of a mother’s injunctions to sit still for the camera.

Something in the clarity of beguiling brown eyes, brilliant as a harvest moon, taking in more of life than they could process; more than they were given credit for.
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Do you recall, we learned in high school geometry class, that two circles might intersect in two imaginary points, a single degenerate point, or two distinct points?

And so I dreamed of a circle of life, unique from the other circles I had enclosed - concentric circles – ripples from a pebble thrown into a pool of water. I was a rock planet orbiting a star, constrained by its gravity, warmed by its light; yet fully and fatally detached; the distances between two bodies too vast to foster any merger.
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Celebrity Jesus climbed down from a magnificent Franz Mayer window, and removed his clip-on halo. He washed his face and hands in the elegant alabaster baptistery, and turning his back upon the assembly of stained glass followers and paparazzi; he plodded out past rows of carved Flemish oak pews, and descended the front steps of the brownstone Cathedral of St. John Baptist.

He was reported to have mumbled, (to who knows who) as he rounded the corner of the well kempt grounds; “I know I am to be about my father’s business and all, but I need some space to myself; some small sanctuary of sanity where I can recharge, to reflect, to reconnect.” He nodded in respect to a statue of St. Francis feeding the birds, on his way out past the fountain.
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We are a web of common causes
Conjoined in mystery
Inconsequential another
Similar anomalies
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Relic of a bygone age:
You were hunter, when fishes
swam blindly through virgin seas.
You will abide,
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It isn't always pretty
Fact is can tend toward brutal
Between the teeth its gritty
Profanity mixed with mud-spittle
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You and me
1 + 1 = an integer undoubtedly > 2.
1 x 1 = something unmeasurably > 1.
What convoluted arithmetics
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Six starched pairs of cotton khakis slacks
Boots and belt and six crisp oxford shirts
Gone, and I don’t know when I'll back
Do you know how much this hurts?
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