Major Jackson Poems
|1.||Letter to Brooks: Spring Garden||9/8/2016|
|3.||On Removing the Wedding Band||9/8/2016|
|5.||Urban Renewal XVIII.||9/8/2016|
|6.||Urban Renewal XXII Spain||9/8/2016|
|9.||Letter to Brooks [Spring Garden]||9/8/2016|
|10.||How to Listen||9/8/2016|
Comments about Major Jackson
I have not disappeared.
The boulevard is full of my steps. The sky is
full of my thinking. An archbishop
prays for my soul, even though
we met only once, and even then, he was
busy waving at a congregation.
The ticking clocks in Vermont sway
back and forth as though sweeping
up my eyes and my tattoos and my metaphors,
and what comes up are the great paragraphs
of dust, which also carry motes
of my existence. I have not disappeared.
My wife quivers inside a kiss.
My pulse was given to her many times,
in many countries. The chunks of bread we ...