Jason Davis


Sit stricken

With the cause

You’ll never uncover.

Our eyes cannot see

The inception.

Try then to recover

What you’ll never possess.

The odds aren’t stacked against,

Far worse,

They’re a garrison

Which halts you

From the sweetest meade,

The most tender meats,

A quiet nights sleep.

When asked to paint god

I painted you,

I painted everyone.

The roof was built

Long before us;

It will shelter the wonder

Far and father

After we’ve been freed

From life.

Go and go figure.

If anything

Have a better chance

To be soothed

Then me.



Lake’s Outlet

I’ll take you to

The quietest place I know.

Water runs there.

Curves over stone

And round fallen branches.

Somehow the mosquitos

Don’t find me here.

Somehow all of everything else

Disappears here too.

Keep yours eyes wide

Then close.

There is peace, ease.

We’ll leave.

Noise will come;

That which clanks, bangs or bellows.

This spot does not change.

I’ve checked.




At Shore

The dog is asleep.

Turtles dart from log

To the pickerel deep.

The teetering on twilight

Lifts and drifts

Bird songs

To the distance.

Fish bend

And snag the insect surface.

A dragonfly

Halts flight to rest.

We quest

Or simply advance

Step by step.

Times, they drag gouging

The ground.

Times they dance

On soil or a parquet floor.

I hardly want more.

Enough has become

All I need left.



Our Time

We move in

The moving on.

Cast coins in wells

Calling wishes hope.

Like driftwood we wander,

Get worn down, cracked;

Something of our shape misforms.

Some they flee to monasteries,

Insulate themselves

And call it compassion

For all sentient beings.


Beings they’ll never see.

I’ve no such destiny.

Bueno suerte to all.

Seems luck is a natural thing

Though rare as peace, ease.

Hunted or guarded

By nothing but choices of chance.

Settled and still,

Only when we exit.

I meditate

To find

Some mercy.



Animal and Earth

What grows

Of the living soil.

What crosses the land

Not of man;

This reverence and cherishing.

In and out, breath,

The what is left,

The incapsulated.

Beauty and the as

As it should be.

Worship lives

In what’s seen

Not in prayer

Or what may live

In the thinnest

Of the thinnest air.

Not chapter and verse.


The depth

Of all the unknown,

I’ll never see bottom.

We conclude but a star

In all of a universe.

Plunge in wide wonder,

Draw on awe,


Any other way,

A life of dead limbs

And stone.




These histories


I can’t prove half my memories,

Not to others,

Nor myself.

Parts would get crippled,

Singed and seize if I could.

What would be lost?

The will to step,

The ability to bound.

I’m caught between many words

Or few.

I know the gnaw at me.

Told someone once.

They balked

And drove off; forever.

Now I’ve knocked its teeth in

And convinced myself

There’s nothing

To spit out.

I’ll call this,




Shoved On

Life will gaff you

Or in brief

Leave you blue sky light

And sliding with the breeze.

I bandage what I can.

Sense when things need water.

Pause to halt

Making it all tumble down.

Bees draw pollen,

Leaches blood.

The word is filled

With many nectars.

What may poison some

Is sought by others.

Gnawing at hard bone

Is a force to live.

There’s no machine

More powerful than survival.

Pushed to swim, knowing,


We all drown.




All must rise

Or sit straight down.

Maybe if

I believed my own words

I’d be a better man.

Maybe if I thought less

I may realize more.

The captain of the ship

Saw it fit

To continue.

He had a vision.

It drove him like the wind.

I see it fit to walk,

Spin mind like a ginny.

Whirl body like a dervish,

Get dizzy

And confuse the simple in life;

Lay damp and confounded.

My bones are too stiff to sit,

That’s my excuse.

I’d lay flat if I could.

Bury me in air,

Soil next.

Sob or smile,

Your mouth will get used

Either way.



Bound in Human

Every day captures me;

Commands me to march.

No one believes I can’t,

That I’ve severed off my own two legs

Cause it’s clear that I’m still standing.

The softest things in life

Are breasts or bed.

With either

I’m bound to forget.

I stuff fuel down my throat,


To how straightforward

Starvation could be.

It’s easy to cut others;

Only if you wish.

Hard to cut yourself;

Even if you wish.

I’ll set out the dinner plates,

Seems we’re all about

To do this thing

All over again.