Sunday, April 1, 2018

Without the Red Glove

Naturally you would come on the Blue Moon
The last of this decade as you and I reach
Our own decade of incomplete decadence
Tonight after spring fever on the porch
That merciless Moon poured her light out
On the helpless dogwoods white delicacies
Delicate as that airy kiss of our two beards

Are we now Glaucon and Adeimantus living
In the realm of Ideals talking of music and art
Your feminine hands nails painted black belie
A tension that has turned a coral snake
Into a gender-fluid salamander held tender
In Schiele's grasp without the red glove
Thirsting for our blue pool of aberrant love

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Every sunset is a good bye

Every sunset is a good bye
the reason is not old age
the feeling is not despair
the sun sets into a golden orange
yellow spectacular particulate
matter daily denser breath taking
the irony of beauty that kills
Every full moon brings enlightenment
the very stars that once guided us
dazzle of constellations disappear
as we fill the air with filth poison
rivers bays oceans making the blue
red tide blood on our hands seeping
from hearts into a toilet of indifference
The shine of sun and moon turn shadow
in the fog that suffocates our existence

Tuesday, July 4, 2017

Life on Earth Hops

Life on Earth hops across the grass
it stops to dig with jitters
unable to ignore the feral cat
on the other side of the yard
its own tail swaying in its 
own pretense of disinterest 

Life on Earth carries on unaware
that Japan dumps radioactive waste
into the ocean an ocean already
full of plastic full of coral bones
the sea grows hot with the pressure
of an atmosphere of soot

Life on Earth goes its own way
it poops from branches into the air
it reproduces and busies itself with
nests and offspring unconcerned with
connections to all the other life forms
Until one species at a time it's gone

-Jameson, 7-7-17

Saturday, June 24, 2017

The illusion of permanence

Tomorrow it will not happen
we who view the future through rose
or through a glass darkly gurus admonish
with the wisdom of living in the present
the future like the past does not exist
until it does

In a world of projected imagination
threatened by self annihilation
there are always flying super-humans
with solutions so it is difficult to envision
cataclysms that will destroy us
including the sages

Birds chirp among the frogs and cicadas
today is infinitesimally different
as the breeze carries no scent of death
though permanence proves the illusion 
molecules belie a manufactured macrocosm 
of inevitable doom

Monday, May 8, 2017

The First Immersion Changes Everything

Every river has its flow
whether a stream through a meadow
or a raging torrent rushing beneath cliffs
cascading into the depths of the Earth
even so each river changes perpetually
from the riverbank watching the eddies 
swirl we know that into this flow
we cannot wade twice cannot know
again the exact same water or feel
washing over us the same experience
not only because the river is changing
not only because we ourselves are changing
but also because the first immersion
changes everything

When we wade into the river twice
we carry with us that first wetness
we seek a repetition of the chill
the swimming upriver the thrill
of being at one with the stream flowing
ourselves not only in the present river
but in our memory of our first swim
there our first embrace of this water
the river is our own life preserving
an identity however illusory of life
of an enduring self of permanence
always moving downstream 
every embrace becomes a recollection
every kiss an accumulation

Saturday, March 18, 2017

Dust or Stardust

Always been there
greed indifference materialism
a string of pearls a sip of champagne
a mansion
the contrast between the self-absorbed
and community in all its forms
the nurse the teacher the day laborer
between those who are out for number one
and those who are filled with compassion
for fellow beings human and animal
 sick or sad or alone
ours is a country born in greed
the quest for property for rare metals
to dazzle kings to increase their lands
ours is a country built on conquest
on lies  to native inhabitants
lies to tribes in touch with their lands
fellow beings whose lives we destroyed
a country built on slave labor  by
Africans torn from their land and each other
a country whose greed demanded
independence but gave us leaders who
for all their wisdom perpetuated greed
materialism and the accumulation
of wealth of property no matter the
suffering of millions

What is there in our nation that makes us
think that we are a good people
religion has been the damnation of all
who have not conformed to the rules
by the rich powerful who believe in
the divine right of kings now we call
the one percent who ignore with disdain
the words of the holy men they profess
to love and obey
falsehood eats the heart of our nation
art of every kind has failed to enlighten
either echoing the lies of religion
or presenting a beauty and compassion
looked at as mere luxury an irony lost
on materialists
Our literature has given us a truth few
comprehend our disharmony with nature
our violence and warlike hatred our
bigotry our shortsightedness our stupidity
truth from Melville Twain Whitman
voices so intimate to us who read that we
weep for the deafness in our neighbors' minds

The dialog goes on between the followers
of  Rousseau and those of  Hobbes
does being human mean having compassion
harmony with nature having the capacity
for civilization or does being human mean
wanting dominance of others war cruelty
wanting an empire rather than culture
are we mind that is capable of the ideals
of love beauty and vision or are we
 matter doomed to self destruction
doomed like an imploding star to oblivion

Friday, January 27, 2017

Sweet Taste of Lamb

Sweet Taste of Lamb

Little lamb who made thee
Grandmother Minnie made me
a lamb cake baked with real
coconut one of her recipes
praised in the food section
of the Washington Post
her cake my favorite specialty
handed on a silver plate to me
on my sweet thirteenth birthday
someone snapped a photograph
and there we are Minnie
Jack and coconut lamb
for all eternity.

Dedicated to the memory of
Minnie R. Noble


Thursday, January 19, 2017

Since the Wood Slat Fell Slap

Since the wood slat fell slap
against the Italian tile kitchen floor
startling us both my tinnitus
has hissed its buzz ring rap
on the flow of nocturnes of Faure
Quietude has been overcome
by noise by cacophony by crap
as if a thousand bats are flapping
toward some demon events
where music makes no sense
where bleeding bloated blimpomats
Moloch among them portend
a burning world of mayhem where
the poison of extinct reptiles
gushes forth in never-ending revenge

Saturday, December 3, 2016


Not even kale rich in vitamins
can save us can stave off
the decomposition threatening
our peace of mind our complacency
not gluten free muffins not
supplements not wild salmon
not omega three fatty acids
will protect the wildcat or
the rain forest the elephant
the economy the homes we
inhabit nothing can defend
Nothing can save us from our
own stupidity our own choice
a leader without clothes without
ideas without compassion void
of understanding of the values
of society a self-absorbed ego
empty of empathy bellicose eager
for war for seizing countries
the way he seizes pussy
always taking faking making
money upon which he has no
We eat our television frozen dinner
kale and sweet potato as we watch hero
movies in which actual news anchors
actual members of Congress confer
with mythical bat and supermen in a reality
we have lost altogether as corporations
as oil companies lay their pipe lines
as smog and smoke fog our minds
as the oceans turn to warm plastic
as greed and ignorance trump
all the humanity all love of nature
all love for one another that once
we had.

--Jameson 12/16

Sunday, August 14, 2016

Look Away

What do you do when a homeless woman
babe in arms puts out her hand to you
how long do you think about her
that you should or shouldn't have
how much have you done to 
purify your water recycle trash
shared your money with charity
how much do you look away
from unpleasantness from dirt
and decay from disease as you go
about you daily routines enjoy your
dinner sip your wine relax in front
of the television as you solve the
mystery you are reading brush your 
go to bed snug in clean sheets
do you know that green slime
oozes into rivers of Florida
that fish are dying that the great
Gulf of Mexico is becoming  
a toilet a cesspool of oil and filth
what do you think as you snap
photos of sunsets looking away
from the drains that empty runoff
otherwise called sewage flowing into the 
Are we all looking away now
no longer just Dixie 
as the bees and butterflies
we kill disappear as poison goes
from our environment into our 
minds making us live in a fantasy
that everything is just fine 
absurd as thinking virgins 
long for terrorists in heaven
absurd as the idea of an after-life
Or wouldn't it be wiser friends
to look away from our illusions
better to look death in the eye
see what is happening to the land
and all who live upon it
the lights will out and the stars

Monday, July 25, 2016

Bro Haiku

young brother life-long
self-same flow of blood and bliss
let mirth heal your mind

Monday, May 30, 2016

Slug South

The days end with reluctance
as May Memorials mark us
as citizens honoring our dead
those who died in the World Wars
or defending our Confederacy
we will not forget them
as the sluggish days turn hot
as the crickets the cicadas the frogs
fill our nights with sleeplessness
until we rise covered in sweat
go out and watch the early dawn
hear birds greet the first summer's day

How could we forget the summers
playing on the beach dripping
sandcastles of our imagination
as the ocean waves gave rhythm
to our blinding white thoughts
we loved the mud of the sand basins
we dug into the moats of our castles
we knew none of it would last
the change of tide while we dripped on
we had no idea what our parents
lounge chair slugs drinking beer    
thought of anything we did

Was it the heat heavy in the oaks
the songs of birds the barking dogs
chained in our dirt yards the feral cats
roaches and rats scratching our dreams
that made us slow as slugs in wet grass
those of us who saw the world were
dazzled by the vision of archetypes
the world's cities the wild Pacific crashing
against the blissed out cliffs of Big Sur
the vastness of canyons the Earth's exuberance
until we retreated on our return to our round 
shells of suspicion our mindless intransigence

Monday, March 7, 2016

Sumatra in Eclipse

Tomorrow totality crosses Sumatra
the solar eclipse descends in darkness
over the land a shadow of doom passing
in the blink of your eye questioning me
asking what has it to do with me in Michigan
awaiting my lover thinking of our love-making
doing it doggy style the details of sex eclipse
all other visions as you look at me an old stereo-
type talking about elections pollution greed
eclipsing the natural world corrupting society
you aren't listening because your thought drifts
to television the make believe president or
is it the show about life in England last century
rich with estates rooms glamour clothes dogs
where people are kind no matter their stations in life
entertainment eclipses reality makes my talk sound
distant unimportant like a total eclipse of the sun
on the other side of the Earth like starving refugees
like people being blown up in Syria wherever that is
don't dwell on unhappy thoughts of death and ash
your sad eyes tell me think instead of the delicious
dinner we shall have then the good night's sleep
that will follow as the night the day no less
certain but far more intimate than an eclipse in
the burning polluted skies of Sumatra

Jack 3-7-16

Thursday, February 11, 2016

God is not a Tooth

God is not a tooth
uncrowned, unbroken
God is swallowing
process not stagnation
gender-less eating
neither biting nor bitten
a pearl of gathering wisdom
some call panentheism
a totality unsullied by schisms
neither Sunni nor Shia
Neither protestant nor Catholic
Neither Mahayana nor Theravada
Vishnu and Shiva fully embraced
Neither Jew nor Christian
Buddhist or Shinto
in God It's All Food
and we humans are but mite
monads flickering momentarily
maybe a sparkle in God's smile.

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Lake Country Seed (final version)

Lake Country Seed

When I was yet a student lad,
First time visiting the Finger Lakes,
I hung upside down
From the cabin's playground
Monkey bars, naked.
Later you said to me,
"You looked like an animal."
You wouldn't have sex with me.
That night, our host
offered me more.
We unmade the bed;
We fucked like animals.

Jack Miller, Nov. 2008

see the new version in 2012.

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Haiku Equinox

Earth's wicked angle
spins September warmth and light
into dark cold night

Monday, August 17, 2015

Prick-Tease Territory

Guitar lead me by your hand
Deep into prick-tease territory
Gazing turquoise eyes no condom
For the evil eye pierce my psyche
With each strum of your strings
In tune as you reach to pluck
The red hot edge of my pulse

You beat the path of your song
Deep into prick-tease territory
Where you see me pointing
Toward you nodding head in time
Accepting your gaze of turquoise
Your hand touching me strumming
Our song of harmony of cumming

Jack 8-17-15

Thursday, August 13, 2015


The ideal forms elude me
no more could I give my words
the sonnet form of Will or John
than I could build the Pantheon
or take into my arms Antinous
as did Hadrian armed to command
Athens Rome Alexandria Agape

For it is summer's end and August
now is nothing like august Augustus
my debts no emperor's nonetheless
tie my hands making ever more distant
life on the Mediterranean ancient
excesses of bliss and Eros on a god's isle
where longing lapses into Sappho's smile

Outside my artificial cave rain storms thunder
tearing the drowning face of Antinous asunder

Jack 8-13-15

Monday, July 20, 2015

haiku cola

end of summer smile
shades made for the afterlife
fists pep pop tabletop

Sunday, February 1, 2015


Have you ever watched the sky
turn into water watched it thicken
like a plot first mist then droplets
until wetness is all the reality
you know as the story of your life
confuses soddenness with nourishment
baptism with drowning as you recall
the pool beneath the waterfall where
once you sank in cold and damp death
almost as you grasped for nothing there
flailing about over your head gasping for air
filling your lungs with choking water
somehow gaining enough leverage to 
raise your head up into the waterfall
droplets having gathered into water walls
warm walls you might embrace but cold
you flee as if your life would wash away

Jack 2-1-15