Stephen Jackson Poems
- Dog Eat Dog Out there, beyond the abyss of night Beyond the ...
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- My Mother's Death My mother, as usual, judged it best. The ...
- Anatomy Beneath the feverish chintz of Someone else’s ...
- Happy Hour It is the big black before an execution, Dark ...
- A Brief Bestiary To carry the child into adult life Is ...
- Evening As I contemplate the waste that is a living mind The...
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I was trained in Psychology, Logic & Metaphysics: only later as a lecturer, artist and 'venerable media grafter'.
I've been author or editor of over a dozen books as well as a journalist whose features appeared in The Independent, Time Out, Sunday Telegraph and leading national magazines. I worked in television films, one of which won Crystal Prize at the Prague Festival; and I was cited by the Head of BBC Music and Arts as 'a writer of the Upper-First Division'.
Imagine, then, being lucky enough to find yourself landed in a near-fantasy career: and then nearly losing everything, through what some might ... more »
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Dog Eat Dog
Out there, beyond the abyss of night
Beyond the lightlessness that lies behind my own
Eye – worse, my inner eye –
A dog is howling.
I know the black orb of its stare
A globe of satin, you might say of it; but only if some
Stray ray, lost in a forlorn expanse of rubble and
Scrubland shade, could catch it first.
Otherwise there’s nothing, beyond the taint of
Nothing, or what is arid and shattered and forfeited and
Essence of dog. I feel the reflex of its throat:
A taut, fortuitous clench of matter,
Pursuing the unenlightened purpose of the flesh, ...