Sometimes during the day I glide, looking out of my ”theatre window”, a narrow window slit, 3 inches wide and 3 feet long. I soar with the red-tailed hawk, the geese and the seagulls. I see all kinds of birds; buzzards, storks, turkeys and rock doves.
I see wild deer, dogs and coyotes, lizards and snakes in the tall grasses. I see spiders living in the window sill.
Sometimes I see my past in the window theatre. I ask forgiveness from my victim, who I killed. I want to think my victim knows how broken, ashamed, remorseful, sad and sorry I am. Not one day goes by without my hating myself for what I did. After four decades in prison I still wish my life could have been swapped for my victim’s life.
I look into the window theatre and ask, why was I chosen to kill and not be killed? Why was I such a crazy ass kid back then? Not knowing the value of any lives, including my own. At night, in my window theatre, I get up from my bunk because I battle demons and snakes, blocking and kicking them in real time sleep. Sometimes my big toe feels like it’s sprained, slightly broken and num from kicking the walls in my dreams. It’s still hard to believe I took a life, even today.
Sometimes my window theatre is beautiful, holding my girlfriend for days;
Isn’t it enough you keep
me away
From people
I could surely help
You keep me away
From a woman’s breath
and voice
To keep me away
From her feet
her scent and touch
Is torture
Isn’t it enough to keep
me away
From resting my head
in her lap to sleep
or weep
Whose sins am I
paying for now after
decades
I look in my window theatre
and see ”No Moon”
tonight
Look at the first picture
of me, incarcerated then
look at me now
You don’t see the change?
Close your eyes and you will
see inside change
as well
–
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I want to contribute my unique
views of humanity from behind bars.
Where observation can be ten times
as deep as in the free world.
Here where I must live every moment
in a 24 hour day, and breathe in
every breath.
Here in my window theatre at night
I dream of seeing a woman’s ruby painted toes.
It’s like one of the seven wonders of the world.
How can a man stay sane
and not have a woman in his life?
The scent, taste and feel of a
woman. That alone compounded
by years of not even touching her
is torture.
It is like being in hell. It is like
being in hell when you see a woman
and cannot say hi to her
as a man to a woman.
Isn’t it enough to keep me
away from parks, mountains
valleys, streams and seas that I
could see from barred windows
Isn’t it enough you keep
me away from family
so long, that many have died.
Isn’t it enough you keep
me away from clean water
and nutritious food
Isn’t it enough you keep
me from
accomplishing my many goals
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Poet/writer/artist/teacher. In prison since 1977. I had two books published in 2010 “Longer Ago Poems by Spoon Jackson” and “By Heart Poetry, Prison, And Two Lives”, a double memoir by Judith Tannenbaum and me. I've been featured in films, plays, articles, books and music suites. I've found my niche in life despite being in prison for over 35 years. I have found that prisons are created internally and are truly found everywhere. I have also discovered that the secrets to break down prison walls are inside each person and I treasure sharing this realness with people. I keep my light glowing through expressing my inner thoughts, vibes and feelings in my poetry and prose writing. Write to me! Address on the blog: Spoon Jackson Realness Network.
