Fishturn Love Letter
Tuesday, January 29, 2008 at 03:10PM 
Music "Baby Doll" by Cat Power
I have died before
I am sure of it
Simply expired like the date on a milk carton
Or perhaps on a marriage certificate
It’s like that sometimes
A man or woman’s invisible number is up
Their loved one(s) cease to see them
And simply walk out the door. Easy.
Like magic my time was up. I was gone
There is proof of this-
I would walk down ally ways or dirt roads
In my ghost state to reach a tiny sign that read
"Papayas For Sale-Wednesday Only"
Nobody saw me
I was sure I was an oddity
Who cared for such things anymore? The dead?
No one came to shop that day, bad luck day.
I would buy all eight of them
From the small Oakland, Dakar, Brookland,
Paris, Scarborough…wherever
Street vender stand
Now I don't give a damn about expiration dates
And understand the importance
Of fermentation
It is February
The season of the forced smiles
Painted lips, tiny handbags and “getting in shape”
People contemplate suicide. The scent of rain
Leather and car upholstery mixed with booze, ganja
And the common perfume drill the nights in further
Regrets crawl out of the black mold
People make promises in February, it is strange
Don’t believe them
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Reader Comments (15)
wow! astonishing. so good is the surprise, so alive this poetry with your voice, dear Jacksta.
It's like a trip on a curved road with open windows.
I am very honored, touched. Your voice here... is a wake-up call in my long silent winter. Thankx so much Jacksta. We want more !!
ooh Jacksta !! thank YOU again for that beautifull open soul. Those Spoken Words you offered are so strong ! The rhythm is perfect, and you bring out each word like a theater performer.I love the allegory you made with the "expired date on the milk carton". San Franscisco is far, you made the trip to Québec possible. Your talent is not a surprise, your voice is a small miracle full of promesses.
"...your voice is a small miracle full of promesses..."
What can I say else after NinaLouve's words, especially coming from her, except "Encore!" and "Merci!"?
Hum... I had posted a comment here... dunno where it went... Anyway, nice to hear your voice finally Jacksta, hope to hear from you soon :)
I am beyond grateful to all of you who my words touch, they are for you. Thank you for being an inspiration, muse, and coming along with me though the winding path, that is poetry- madness, prayer, song, dance, solitude and chaos at once.
don’t deceive in belief/ Knowledge comes with death’s relief. ...
"... the responsibility of the artist is to transcend the human ego... as a writer i have no right to be there on the page... i am merely a medium." H. selby jr.
superfly: Hello Dear, yes once again it seems that things are taken too personal, they can't get passed it all .. people become terrified, they bring out their tools of deconstruction and destruction,that is why ghosting is a natural part of the camp dynamic.
We are only earth man and earth woman, we do not sit high above the stone people or tree ones. Ones that swim, crawl, slither and so on, and yet we are not below the holy man. We all die the same deaths here on Unci Maka.
Don't they know that we are a warrior society and do not wait for death for the Creator to give us knowledge.
Cante wasteya nape ciyuzapelo.
( With a good heart I take your hand)
words like a song...sweet ones for a such amazing and wonderful person called Nina
Thanks for Her. :)
Hey Jacksta, guess what? Yeah I think you know, it's here:
http://lkm696.blogspot.com/2008/02/papayas-for-sale.html
Now Nina is urging me to ask you to do a voice-over à la Anne Clark :)
Now that would be nice!
If you need a hand to do it, write to me.
Lubna and Chris:
Absolutely! Nina Dove. Amazing artist. Weaver of worlds and wonder. A true believer in the unseen. magic eye ;)
superk:
(big smile), thank you for the song. -Sound is very roots/blues/true melody unrushed.
Excellent. I found myself singing at work.. “Papayas for sale. Wednesday only… nobody saw me..” very hypnotic chant down. - I emailed you.
...reading these comments of gratitude to jacksta, i wonder how i would recieve these words had i never the chance to know jacksta personally, spending time in her presence... a strong and beautiful force of nature.
the feeling of her cuts through walls, across rooms, beyond skin.
though effortless, and most times i think she has no idea of that something inside her, something that is a sweet poetry in itself.
i feel blessed this way, to feel these words in some different kind of place within. like strange breed, the way i've come to understand bits and pieces of it with time, through small stories and memories and the things she speaks of without words...
but i suppose this foreign 'keybox' is a beautiful smokescreen of possibilities, a blessing of a different sort.
thankyou to jacksta for her words, but perhaps more to the gods that gifted them to her and her to us...
hi ! nice to hear this wonderful voice of yours , and these words !
I didn't think you were from san francisco, wonder why not ?