moveable feast

Monday, April 24, 2006

I am sad when you go
I'm sorry because I know you prefer to see my smile
So I do, part my lips and pull them up at the corners
Its not a lie so much as a hope
You are never harsh and in the semi-darkness
I still see your eyes clearly. The clarity
calms me and frightens me. I want to touch it, like
reaching out to see if a calm pool exists or if the sky has really
fallen to the earth.
I want to release the perfection I feel when you look at me,
but in touching will you fade back into the blackness
of the ground?
But maybe I will touch, and disturb and wait
and find in time my face reflecting back.

Posted by: jackman at 22:33 | link | comments

If I were not where I was and you were not there,

And we could see each other whenever

Would things be different?

Would we eat together at night

and light a candle and watch it dance

Could I rub the sleepies from your eyes and

blow your fallen lash for good luck?

I would let you be you and you would let me be me

We would smile and laugh and be happy.

You could do a little dance and sing a silly song

I'd whistle out of tune and slap my knee in time.

And we would smile and laugh and be happy.

You could fly over the river's bends and sail

on the water, and ride on the road. You could play with fire and

metal and air. I would turn down the sheets at night.

Would we build a swing and hover out in the blue?

Would we grab flashlights and go hunting

night treasures? What would it be like if I were

with you? What would we do if we were one and not

two?

Posted by: jackman at 21:37 | link | comments

Friday, April 21, 2006

Regrets are tricky things. Like little black spots on that show up on x-rays, conscripting doctors to stand around uncomfortably, chin in palm; fuzzy, formless little blobs that lodge themselves between your shoulder bones, or find a comfy spot right in the pit of your stomach. For a day or two you walk around wondering if the lingering tinge in your gut is the shrimp enchiladas from tuesday night, and the ache creeping up your spine finally is the onset of scoliosis from years of poor posture. Its the pain in your heart that is the tell-tale, however. You dig down deep into the most bizzare recesses of your hypochondrial instict, and you come back with without so much as a murmur. And you know then that the pain, the twinge, the ache, they aren't the gathering signs of your physical demise. The pain, the twinge, the ache, they're the small, accumulated death of your hopes. A pneumatic pressure may settle into your chest, your shoulders my turn in a bit. You may feel as though an indifferent stranger has opened a creamation urn above your head, letting the sad ashe float down and coat your insides with its hermetic greyness.

So grieve. Cry dolorous tears. Break a glass or a plate or your refelction in the mirror. Let your body quiver under the strain of an intractible tomorrow.

When your mouth goes dry and you stand to get a glass of water, when you take that first step and feel the suprsing solidity of the ground beneathe your foot, stop. Let the calmness of the present wash over you like watercolor, and remember that the fractious future will never be as good this very moment.

Posted by: jackman at 21:16 | link | comments

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

I always start with the eyes and his are unlike any other I know. Eyes of no spectacular form or color, but alive-a sparkling grey with a shrinking hazel halo. To look into his eyes is to understand joy. His smile is everpresent and immediately draws you closer. It is wide and superb and crinkles up a bit where the edges meet his cheeks, leaving a slight wrinkle that adds a tinge of maturity to his otherwise undemanding face. His skin is clear and soft- slightly ruddy, but young and resilient. His hands are medium-sized and there is a tenderness to his touch that belies the roughness earned from years in the workshop. His shoulders are broad and his arms not unsubstantial. He holds himself straight, with an assured presence, but with the looseness of a man not searching too hard for answers.

When you meet him you will smile- maybe without even realizing that you are. You might feel compelled to hug him. Or have him hug you- to wrap around you whatever that is in him that makes you feel more human.

Posted by: jackman at 00:12 | link | comments (1)

Thursday, May 05, 2005

hello

Posted by: jackman at 15:23 | link | comments (4)

Thursday, December 02, 2004

Follow a wild goose? Yes, maybe, in my mind, over cinnimon and caffine and the smell of brown paper. Or on a dirt road wrinkled by the rolling rains and dusty in the salty breeze. Wild goose, wild goose....south, west....over the sea. oh my love for the sea. my fearof the sea. waves washing back on themselves, inching in and back and rolling over till invisible again. foamy toothy grin that fades into the sandy heaviness of pm. laughter that comes from the wisdom of depth and the agelessness of furious serenity. to give up control. to allow completeness to take hold without in a bloodless invasion. that is the oragamii bird in the gutter. scraping the wax from your ears. kindling. kind. kin. k. that is me.

Posted by: jackman at 22:18 | link | comments (3)

Friday, November 12, 2004

weeks fracture to milliseconds in my worm-hole world. i feel smooth and slippery as i squeeze through black bottle-neck tunnels. and the air feels like warm water on my cheeks. maybe i'm not getting enough sleep? or maybe the volume on my cd-player alarm clock is set too low? i wake up to melodic whispers that keep me riding my soft dreams for just a little longer....i find myself daydreaming of sleep. full, pregnant, honey colored. its dark when i open my eyes. under the feather comfort i regain the semi-conciousness of the ecstacy of my slumber, a warm satisfaction that lines my belly like baked potato soup. as my pupils adjust to the greylight of dawn and the bath towles thrown over my bedroom door come into focus.....i'm struck down with the chill and emptiness of leaving the womb. i shuffle down the hall, into the bathroom, onto the singular sensation of a cold tile floor on bare feet. my foot-pad nerves spark and i side-step onto the bathmat. the shaggy synthetic pushes up between my toes and the shy tickle reminds me why i crawled out from under the blankets this morning.

so one week to go until my trip. my little advendure. how can i incorporate brownies into my crash diet?

Posted by: jackman at 20:46 | link | comments

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

deleriously comfortable. cereal for dinner. seeped in exotic reading and focus on the task at hand is incredible and natural. now, if i can just keep my cuticles in shape, i'll have it made.

balanced life, possible in our bigger better faster world? material push to be "successful" but gut-push to be true to your humanity, family, nature. can't have both....sacrifice has to come in somewhere, somethings gotta give.

Posted by: jackman at 23:18 | link | comments (4)

Sunday, October 17, 2004

gosh....the travel bug has got me....but i'm waiting for the arrival of my new camera before i set out.....maybe this explains my overuse of the elipses lately....a drive to move on...go on.....soumersault with eyes closed...sleep in hammocks and fan myself with palm fronds.....hmmmm.....hmmmm...immortality through constant motion and leaving impression on different soils.....

Posted by: jackman at 17:26 | link | comments (1)

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

i'm verdant today. slightly ill from an overindulgence of low-carb versions of high-carb foods, which always make me feel slightly plastic. but otherwise i am juicy and sweet. torents of work, non-stop. then naps under down and fresh fish for dinner. with lime juice. i broke a nail.....but i think....that this is just preparation for the jungle.

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