Category Archives: poetry (good and bad)

Hidden By Snow

January has more days than any other month
Which you would never know

By marking a calendar with a big, black pen
For the days are not measured by passage of time
But rather by the world-weary turning of wheels in your soul
Down a long, sheer road that is hidden by snow
(you roll and you roll)
And the glare blinds you to the world moving by
You only feel the crunch of it
Or the blank thwump-thump of it
Each revolution pulling you further into the white

~

There are other sounds

Marking passage and chill

Arid gusts, ruthless and brute

Whistling through leafless branches

(that are so frigid they are mute)

Content to let the wind speak for them

As it wills

Or a far away bird’s cry

A cold, solitary blast

That hangs frozen with the rest

All of it so hard

(water, wastes, wilderness)

You can’t scratch out the translation

As crisp noise enters your ear

~

January holds extra days, hidden by snow

Which you would never know

Because they are stupid and dull
Blocks of ice so opaque

They lack the awareness

Or the compassion

Or the simple decency

To thaw in the presence of our heat

~

Jeff Jenkins

image
“Solar” by Grandson Josiah (mixed media – popsicle sticks and masking tapes)


My Heart and My Bones – (Tragic Comedy)

As I age
I sense the hands of time
Touch my heart in the secret place
Which is bigger than I knew
Or even guessed existed in me

Quiet sadness abounds
Yet it is harder for me to cry
Still I don’t have to try
When something hits that sweet spot
That is glad to live in some pain

I am becoming sentimental,
But I sell out to the process…
In my heart
Learning to enjoy life’s ebb and flow

As I age
I feel the hands of time
Touch my bones and stiffen them
Though not so stiff I can’t laugh
At and with myself

Doubled over, belly aching hilarity
Drawing unbidden, humorous tears from me
Not from the humerus (which isn’t really funny)
But from bones I’ve chewed through
Which now tickle my gut

I am a laughing lunatic,
But I sell out to the process…
In my bones
Learning to enjoy life’s ebb and flow

Jeff Jenkins (on the occasion of my 46th birthday)


Severity – A Pantoum

It was a lean time, which made us more severe
Robed in blacks and grays, against sharp, icicle air
We came to the street, where our eyes, and our hands met
Near the courts, where the girls were, cold iron on skin

Robed in blacks and grays, against sharp, icicle air
We rendered a judgement, for the best, for every one of us
Near the courts, where the girls were, cold iron on skin
Witches we named them, then turned our backs, praying

We rendered a judgement, for the best, for every one of us
The heat of the fires, chased the chill, slushing snow
Witches we named them, then turned our backs, praying
It was a lean time, which made us more severe

-Jeff Jenkins
“For all my witchy friends…”
Witch Hunt by Rush. http://shz.am/t400278

20140708-210513-75913312.jpg


A Cute Boy; A Dead Girl

She and He and I and We

Exist as multiplicities

We two are one and less than love

But lovely is as deadly does

We are them that perhaps won’t

But maybe do, or maybe don’t

And blood is very definite

Friend

She lies to you, you lay with me

We kiss in a library

Where braver hearts have lived to dare

The stacks are groaning, breathing air

Muted whispers, crying boys

Faeires float above the noise

Of a vague blowjob

Shhhh!

Thee and thou

You’re guessing now

Whose best and book

Whose book and friend

And will you love me ‘til the end

But we’re already dead

We dangled first, and then we fled

Extinct

Leaves and hand and hand in glove

We steal away, with God above

Through lifeless lips, incanted spells

Though dead, we learn life lessons well

She and I and all of you

Know exactly what to do

Love

 

Jeff Jenkins

Special thanks to @darylsleepshere for use of the phrase “vague blowjob,” taken from his original tweet.


Say Grace

Supplicant:

Hungry and thirsty for healing
Feed my gnawing feelings
Or take them away
Or take me away
I’m wasting away
…But I’m still breathing

Officiant:

You, my child, I will feed by my hand
Health will course in your veins
Secret manna, sustaining love
Then rest, and time to digest

Supplicant:

If I let go hunger and hurting
If my heart is defrosting
Afraid of myself
Afraid of the lies
Afraid of the truth
…Truth may be my undoing

Officiant:

You, my bride, sit at my right hand
I’m sharing with you this day
A marriage feast, eternal love
Then rest, and time to digest

Amen

Jeff Jenkins – With longsuffering thanks to @kitten_mischief – You will find the secret manna!


Correspondence

I have written you letters

Each page of my life

To tell you I care

To find out where

You are in your travels

Through distance and time

Old friend of mine

And may I meet you there?

You have sent postcards

From some lonely isle

Where you are

Far very far

From the mainland and me

Through feelings and thoughts

Comes your short reply

And well wishing well you were here

I will write you a book

Not too long but complete

To tell you I love

To tell you of

Pain that we don’t sail together

Through distance and time

Dear father of mine

And will you read past chapter one?

Jeff Jenkins


Ghost Hands

The girl seems light as can be;

Trust me, she’s heavy

Raining pianos are falling down

All around

And she’s pounding all of these

Looking for a way to believe

Or unlock

An ephemeral dream

It’s hardly planned

She has a ghost in her hands

Upright, clavier, electrically;

She fumbles at those keys

And she’s grand, baby, grand

Concert bound

Ivories tickled and turning brown

Until finally she’s found

The key

To her identity

It’s hardly planned

She has a ghost in her hands

The girl seems baleful, wailing now

Then lilting, higher, wonder how

She feels that soul

Or her role

In this symphony

Sounds difficult, but what is ease?

If not to find one’s sweet release

Or solace

On this day’s staff

She sounds just grand

She has a ghost in her hands

Jeff Jenkins – With Grateful Thanks To @amyarani