Archive for October 2014

While Away the Hours   1 comment

While I swam with a manatee
While I touched the ancient back
While Florida’s sun shone on my legs
While it was February
While in NYC Philip in February
Put a needle to his arm

While I walked two dogs
While Santa Fe sun shone on my scalp
While I worried monies through my mind
While I wondered the rest of my years
While in California Robin in August
Put a rope around his neck

While once a man without money or fame
While I sat drinking coffee
Told me of research and practice
Of tying knots in rope
To hang from a rafter
While an I-Beam would also work

While I swallowed the coffee
While the man kept the noose near
for comfort of owning a way out
While another man decided to use a knife
While he didn’t die
While an old woman hung herself

While they cut her down
While fingernail marks covered
her neck above rope mark
While she was tall
with a long soft neck

Mary Strong Jackson

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How lucky am I? Free poetry workshop by Tony Hoagland in Santa Fe.   Leave a comment

I wrote this for assignment to imitate the form of a poem called, “Snow” by James Longenbach.

Howl
Coyote that howls the plains
howl into my skin
invade the furrows of winter wheat
the snow-covered beaver dams
the jack pine branches

Howl up my sleeves
as I hang Levi’s on a wire clothesline
this cold Valentine’s Day
all the while longing for a chocolate
heart melting in my mouth
on a hot beach in Miami

Howl into expanses of prairie
find me like a speck of rabbit on the horizon
find me kneeling in a buffalo wallow
find me in this stretch of endless

Coyote that howls the plains
howl into my echoes
howl until I am awake

Posted October 1, 2014 by strongjacksonpoet54 in Uncategorized

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How lucky am I? Free poetry workshops led by prize-winning poet Tony Hoagland in Santa Fe!   Leave a comment

I wrote this for an assignment which was to imitate the form of a poem written by Spencer Reece called Portofino.

After Portofino
Promise me that you will wash the porcupine.
Promise me that you will put the soap away
in the ivory dish under mother’s painting.
Never mind the holes poked in the bar.

Perhaps then you will grasp the need for structure,
but with holes in it for living.
A blue towel? A work of art. Poky things.
Promise me you will make sense of these.

And when your thoughts sharpen, when the suds clear,
you will see the need to wash porcupines.
And you will know what I said is true
when I said with structure there must be plenty of holes.

Posted October 1, 2014 by strongjacksonpoet54 in Uncategorized

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