Jack Bowman is a poet and practicing psychotherapist who currently resides in Altadena. Here’s the bio he has up on Goodreads: Jack was born to a workin' class family in southwestern Ohio, but soon moved to southern California where he lives today. Changes in subculture as well as the 'spirit of the times' affected his writing and philosophy. He graduated from California State Polytechnic University in Pomona in 1986 with a Bachelor of Arts in Behavioral Science. He graduated from Pacific Oaks College in Pasadena with a Master of Arts in Marriage, Family and Child Counseling in 1997. His work in the mental health field since 1984, as well as his own bizarre life experiences, figure prominently in his poetry, art, songs and prose. Jack is a licensed Psychotherapist in the Los Angeles area. He was widowed in 2004, he has a stepson Mathew from that marriage. He has remarried to poet America Solis and they have two sons. He has been a published poet since 1991. Has 12 books of his poetry available on Amazon.com.
When
I Found Out I Had Diabetes, I Had a Dream
I awoke in a dark room
spotlit from the left
working clothes, worn,
someone helps me,
the face changes, so I can't tell
for sure who it is,
more of a feeling
they run off to the right
urging me to follow,
it is hard to move
there are two deep vertical lines
that run down from my forehead
into my shirt, maybe lower,
they are red, slices, sore
I roll over to place weight on my left leg
it has been sawed through at the ankle
and collapses
as I fall, I try to pull back the weight
to my right
it stays on the ground while
the leg detaches
also sawed through
screaming, the left wrist I have been trying
to push on also gives way
and I look up at my right
which dangles in the light
I see bone
the place I was going,
those close to me that I needed to help
I cannot,
in this condition
and 'that' is the most excruciating
somewhere, watching from above
an evil presence
is pleased.
I awoke in a dark room
spotlit from the left
working clothes, worn,
someone helps me,
the face changes, so I can't tell
for sure who it is,
more of a feeling
they run off to the right
urging me to follow,
it is hard to move
there are two deep vertical lines
that run down from my forehead
into my shirt, maybe lower,
they are red, slices, sore
I roll over to place weight on my left leg
it has been sawed through at the ankle
and collapses
as I fall, I try to pull back the weight
to my right
it stays on the ground while
the leg detaches
also sawed through
screaming, the left wrist I have been trying
to push on also gives way
and I look up at my right
which dangles in the light
I see bone
the place I was going,
those close to me that I needed to help
I cannot,
in this condition
and 'that' is the most excruciating
somewhere, watching from above
an evil presence
is pleased.
Jack Bowman was
a
Featured Poet who
read his poetry at the August 2015 Second Sunday Poetry Series