May 2015
Before I drag myself into work every morning, I sit in my car in parking lots—the only public places left that don't come with a soundtrack--and read poetry. Currently, I'm into Merrill Gilfillan, Steve Scafidi, Tom Clark and Tom Hennen. My new book of poems is Appalachian Night. It is available from me at no cost: just email chineseplums@gmail.com.
Turtle, Sun, River
he pokes out
from his helmet
blinks at me
uncertain
if there really is
a truce in the war
Pine Sapling Twig
cold spring morning
needles nosing
in the breeze—
at least a hundred pointed
questions
Heard
by the deaf
I hope,
blind dogs
and slowly moon-
dancing pilgrim
slugs,
the trombone
ease of clouds.
In a Winter Field
a scarecrow with one pantleg flapping in the wind
kicking with no foot
hits nothing
every time
nothing hits him back
and the scarecrow kicks again
Late March
traffic lights
and crumpled
coats on muddy floor
grateful
for whatever
blossoms
©2015 Mark Jackley