Commentary on Gravity by Arthur Jackson V

Photograph by Arthur Jackson V

Photograph by Arthur Jackson V

Was the Sound Green?
 

I am conflicted
I’m conflicted
I’ve been conned
I’ve been flicked
There is an irritant
Your words are thieves
with hidden knives
in back pockets
We had a forest once
but too true             Alysia called out
words for their alphabet of cutlery

 

Remember the green?
The living sound?

 

A past love white
knuckled syllable value
This left us in’silence
I was preferred silent
He too collected sharpeneds
and the sounds left by trees
upon fall without audience

 

 

Star shards


Not every landscape begs
A photograph            A golden light
Blankets for everyone

Everything becomes Eldorado

Royal cloak of morning
Below trailing tutti like birth-
right.

I wonder if you ever snuck

A photo of me like I did
Of you          Pollen is a flowers
Momento to the soil         Even when
Milk and honey run dry

A silken  thread seams silverlinings
To clouds     A bag I’dgiven
You – now, with a fixing stitch
I didn’t weave with needle

Were we a series of return to
    Sender?

Do you remember teaching me
To write a perfect letter? You said “a good letter
Will get your want
But, threw my words at my face
Post mark the Date by
My papercut stare       Maybe I should’ve
Stamped the  top right edge red
So we could scab over

Is this how love comes
To stammer? Blood
Gushing out and no one
To say I’m sorry?

Even stars shard golden light
Then tinge red before going out

 

 

How Questions Ache (The Green Shadow)

“Why are you following me?”
“What do you mean?”
My eyes fall into the empty space - starring where he punched a blackhole before me. /Following you?/ it echoes in my head. I didn’t want to get lost in space; I wanted to come back ready with aim. There I found a question in the event horizon.
You’re always there when I turn around . . .
He feels I’m his shadow.
“So often, you call me your shadow, but do you ever stop and think maybe I’m just drawn to you? Naturally pulled because I find you intriguing, handsome, easy to talk to, and love you?”
 

Isn’t this what happens in lovers space? Doesn’t gravity pull you that way?
 

“I never thought about it that way” Gravity didn’t pull him that way. I should have know then to stop watching so long with rose irises and blushing pupils.
But, I now know how lessons linger before becoming learned.
My eyes walked his sun so, they wore footprints in his surface the way your head imprints your favorite pillow or light bleaches a photograph . . . /He must have felt it/ I thought. Maybe all that starring is what makes love so blinding, afterall overstimulation is wearing. Can a blackhole swallow a sun, so, we don’t have to ache such questions?