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Jackson , Stacy Nathaniel

Stacy Nathaniel Jackson

Years: 2012


Stacy Nathaniel Jackson is a poet, playwright, mixed media artist, and Director of Financial Service & Administration at UCSF.  Stacy was awarded a literary cultural equity grant by the San Francisco Arts Commission for the fiscal year 2011/12 to support development of his book length poem Moving Behind Moses, an exploration of African American Women in the US Military.  His visual art and literary art has appeared at Los Angeles City Hall, Femina Potens Art Gallery, New American Writing, Black Arts Quarterly, and Lodestar Quarterly among others. MaCaHu Press published his chapbook Camouflage in 2010. He enjoys traveling, and samba dancing in the streets of San Francisco during Carnaval.


On the Essence of Containement


Containers contain edges soft or rough.  A container’s main role is to contain things uncontainable.  Most young containers do not know this.  Containers have shark teeth for feet, peanut butter & jelly for mouths, fingers in place of ears.   Containers grow up believing their purpose in life is synonymous with containing, or the essence of containment, or perhaps the spirit of containing if such a thing exists.  Containers have few reliable friends; most containers are S.O.bees or at least seem that way in their erectness.  Containers think they know more than anyone else in a crowded room. Containers think they embody the essence of containment like none other (but this cannot possibly be true.)  Still, many containers wish they could flow like water from stainless steel faucets.   Containers will never flow like water from a faucet or stream, a river or a creek.  It has been observed some containers change their names in an attempt to re-construct their shark teeth feet or their peanut butter & jelly mouths, their finger ears.  Container Carton is now Cartoon.  Container Box goes by Sistah Boom.  A confident woman not born a container said to a full room, “There are no secrets.”  The full room blinked blank.  She had seen Cartoon in the room that day, not Carton; she spoke to Ms. Boom not knowing that Box was the legal name on his driver’s license, hidden in the creases of his leatherette bag, contained.