At moon high tide
I run off the end of the silvered dock
Phosphorous confounds inverted eyes
wanting to grasp something more
than air can offer
to sustain this body sinking
into black mollusk mud
and transparent jelly fish.
Jessan Dunn Otis (c) 1985
From the unpublished manuscript MIGRATIONS OF THE HEART
One bird sings its morning call,
waiting for a reply
The sun sneaks up, silent in the East, again
There were no shadows
I sit here #writing this to you.
@JessanDunnOtis (c) 2023 #Writer #poem #poetry #poet #RhodeIsland
I just wrote and posted this poem on Twitter.
Since May 21, 1996, I’ve marketed myself as an independent, freelance writer/editor, collaborating with some amazing clients. To them, as always and again, many thanks for trusting me.
It’s true, from time to time, I did my own work. Not enough, however.
After twenty-seven (27) years it’s time to reconfigure.
Going forward I’ll be focusing more on my work that has laid dormant or ignored too long.
This is my path. Not to walk it is unconscionable.
#DanceOn…
As when you touch yourself for the first
time inside and out
Or when you have left without saying goodbye
for the last time and you do not know it yet
Like walking into a dark room where everything
is known and you are excited that
something alive and beautiful will brush
your face
Or I am the long tree whose branches
move gently wild from the wind
and leave marks on your face
that you will remember when you dream
and you will go back to stare for days
until your eyes ache
Like arms that nobody who has ever loved you
has had before or has held you more strong
than you will ever be held again
And you will weep because you know that
that is true.
(c) Jessan Dunn (DeCredico) Otis – 1985/1987 – CQ, California State Poetry Quarterly, Spring-Summer 1987, Volume 14, Number 1, p.11.
I’ve been washed in the water
Baptised into another life
You restore my soul
You rejuvenate my spirit
You lead me to still places, even
in the presence of turmoil and
terror
As safe harbor in a storm
Let me drop anchor and hold strong
against torment-tossed winds
I’ve been washed in the water
true home
Welcome me back when all this is done.
______________________________________
Jessan Dunn Otis (c) 2022
, or we don’t talk to the ones
who
know and survive
It is past time
to call you back again
The old ones are dead
Like water bright
in the eye
The brush of memory is too wide
And the surface is shimmered and wrong
Long afternoons listening
to the old woman about
her old women
The algae of remembering obscures
Again and again.
Jessan Dunn (DeCredico) Otis © 1985
Welcome to Rhode Island Writer’s Harvest (RIWH). This initiative was launched on May 21, 2021. This CALL TO ACTION is an open invitation to all Rhode Island writers (all genres), readers, and supporters. Please follow the link below to read, review, and join me in this community of Rhode Island writers and those who want to give back to help end hunger in Rhode Island. Thank you to Steve Maciel and Billy Shore – many blessings.
Thank you,
Jessan
Jessan Dunn Otis
Founder|Director
Rhode Island Writer’s Harvest (RIWH)
https://rhodeislandwritersharvest.wordpress.com/
The long grass moves
The breeze blows
One opposite of the other
I know where that rabbit is and goes.
(c)2022
Jessan Dunn Otis|Writer 