39

39

Fear

the moon

falling out of orbit,

the tides stopping

after their ebb,

the sun burning

it's hydrogen wick

to wax,

and the wind halting,

leaving a worn vessel 

to drift in the doldrums,

waiting to sink

with no drive

to reach its destined port.

-Robert L. Jackson III

Oceanic Myth

Oceanic Myth

In the iterative hallway 

lined with identical cabins,

the ocean was not visible, 

but Poseidon's power 

still tilted the rectangles 

in my mind.

My demigod and I 

walked away 

from a unfulfilled library, 

in the belly and without windows, 

containing only the tattered tales 

of Cousteau;

the room 

lost to the gleam 

of glass elevators 

and polished rails 

emitting lighthouse beams 

to attract destruction, 

like Alexandria.

Even the new steel 

welded in bulging seams 

could not resist 

ancient statues of Pan, 

submerged, but not yet lost.

Robert L. Jackson III

Erosion

By the time 

you return to the mountain 

across faint trails,

there may only be a hill.

Now it stands 

with blurred edges 

in the billowing clouds 

but is still too soft 

to be considered 

a fact,

to be etched 

in the blue and green atlas.

But still you follow 

the snow melt stream 

as it diminishes 

from the source, 

cutting striped canyons 

into the skin 

of your globe; 

the forgotten foundation

of expressions.

-Robert L. Jackson III

Replacements

Replacements

The planted trees bud in the Spring,

misaligned on the compressed soil.

How will they adapt to the world?

Will their branches bend around the conductors

and angle in the local breeze,

or will they follow the swirling currents of heat

and electrical emotion?

Robert L. Jackson

Dyed

Dyed

Submerged,

my vision changes, 

the light refracts, 

and dreams compress.

The scaled prey

are leaner 

than they appeared

from the eroding bank.

My rubber hooves 

sink deep 

into the compost 

diffusing into the clear.

Through the tea 

I see a bitter horizon 

in the ice rubble

and the soaking leaves.

-Robert L. Jackson III

Broken Peaks

Broken Peaks

Everything is

a puzzle

made of the tight shards

of a shattered crystal.

The fragments have sharp edges

that cut the fingers

trying to place them

into their harbors.

At sweet angles

the planes reflect you

but when tilted

they become invisible.

Silent in the night

when touched too firmly

the lone geometries resonate

when nicked.

Robert L. Jackson III

Tangled

I am now posting my poems also on a new Facebook page. I invite y'all to join us here:

https://www.facebook.com/Drypineshumidteapoetry

Tangled

The stiff,

plastic coated metal bends

but does not intertwine

as readily as the clear,

thin, fishing line.

Blunt fingers 

can pry apart 

the rolling curves 

of cables, 

but are innocuous 

to the minuscule, 

tightly wrapped threads. 

The random interactions 

and coincidences 

of curving time

has brought the linear flow 

to this fuzzy spot, 

without direction, 

into fixed, solid orbits. 

Even the nimble surrender, 

to cut 

the growths loose 

rather than free them.

-Robert L. Jackson III