William Jackson Poems

I thought I’d write a bad poem, one for the ages, signifying nothing.
Pavement suffocates the living earth just as bad poetry fills volumes.
Still, oblivious to the land’s rape, the masses enjoy sentimental blathering,
And all is well since professional wrestling rules even sports columns.
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Sun and Moon
Wishful lovers
Never touch
Languish in silence
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Do your best.
Organize your thoughts.

Never give up.
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i should like
to carefreely lie
on my back,
all the while
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My Love never languished.
She was a visual feast, another Helen,
and we loved with an incandescent love
so that even the gods wept and wished to be mortal.
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A green sprout,
A single blade of grass,
A pharaoh ant wiggling its golden antennae,
Thousands upon thousands of leaves rustling with the wind,
...

At the end of it all, what will remain?
The garden will return to dry fallow ground,
and the brilliant scarlets and violets of the coral beans
I so thoughtfully planted near the downspouts
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This life fragile all too easily shatters.
Three tragedies I will never understand,
Crushing beauty, flowering hate, loss of innocence.
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What do you mean
you do not feel?

I feel everything!
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The world, a steel cage, complete with plastic grass,
whose round windowless walls allow no escape,
is lovelier than ever, so I am told, and there are
no environmental damages.
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