Jesse James Ziegler
July 2025
Jesse James Ziegler is currently serving as Poet Laureate for the City of Reno (5th-Jan/24-Dec/25). He is the Vice President of Spoken Views Collective and the Creative Director for Monday Night Poetry (Voted 2024 Best Open Mic - Reno News & Review), True Colors Poetry and Collective Breath Poetry Book Club. He is a member of the Sierra Literary Cooperative, Sierra Arts Literary Community and the Nevada Poetry Society. He is the Spoken Word/Poetry contributor to Reno Arts News. He was the first ever Poet in Residence for the Bruka Theatre and held that position for three consecutive seasons (27,28,29). His first collection of poetry FIVE (2019) was published and brought to life through their annual New Works Festival. In addition to the Bruka Theatre of the Sierra, his work has been published by Nevada Humanities, The Mill Valley Literary Review, Strophes, Black Rock Press, PBS Reno, KUNR KNCJ and KWNK Radio, Metro Gallery Reno NV and Multnomah University Press. Jesse opened and hosted the world premieres of Brandon Leake’s original spoken word play ‘Insomnia’ (Winner of Season 15 AGT) and has been a performance artist at the annual Utah Arts Festival. He has served as a host, judge and prompter for the Nevada chapter of the national Poetry Out Loud organization.
MY DARLING
​
I.
Nobody sleeps as soundly
as my unemployed daughter,
on her seventeenth hour of the day,
exhausted from doing absolutely
nothing, while Spotify accompanies
her next dream sequence.
​
II.
Found wandering the desert,
after abandonment by her previous
parents before Covid,
she’s convinced I saved her
through adoption,
refusing to leave my side
whenever I’m home.
​
III.
She pools the multi colored
lacrosse balls together,
one in her mouth,
the others within reach,
children she never had,
mothering them through life.
​
IV.
Deeply sighing and side eyeing
when I move away
from her radiant heat,
trying to cool off enough
to fall asleep and stay that way.
​
V.
She runs toward the crinkle
of plastic, unique to peanut
butter pretzels from Trader Joe’s,
and away from the crinkle
of trash bags being opened
or the dishwasher being loaded.
​
VI.
I collect the lacrosse
tennis, and baseballs together
in my arms, pretending to
put each in my mouth,
a frantic kidnapping
of the grandchildren I never had,
fathering her through life.
​
VII.
We wander the desert together,
abandoning our mutual responsibilities,
joined at the hip since before Covid,
convinced we are family through adoption.
Her jingling metallic proof of ID against the
silence of the terrain lets me know
her approximate location,
now confident enough to enjoy freedom,
it is she who saved me.
​
A GENTLE REMINDER
​
Surround yourself with those
who will only talk about you behind your back
to God, in their prayers,
or bragging on your behalf
to those who’ve yet to have the pleasure
of a proper introduction
agents of change on angel’s wings
lifting you up in rooms
you need not enter to fly through.
​
Shake the dust from the homes
and the villages where you’re no longer welcome,
or never were,
but love them anyway from afar.
Be a force to be reckoned with, but understand
you are not in charge of the great reckoning.
Hope for reconciliation,
Prepare for devastation,
and know, as with most things, the truth
is most likely somewhere in the middle.
Like the heart in the middle of your chest
Like dreams at the center of your vision
Like love in the middle of your being
Like you, in the middle of this moment,
exactly where you’re supposed to be.