Didi Jackson is the author of the poetry collections My Infinity (2024) and Moon Jar (2020). Her poems have appeared in American Poetry Review, Bomb, The New Yorker, and Oxford American among other journals and magazines. She is the recipient of the Robert H. Winner Memorial Award from the Poetry Society of America. She is a Dean's Faculty Fellow at Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee where she teaches creative writing. Most recently she completed her certification as a Tennessee Naturalist.

Other poems on the web by Didi Jackson:
Two poems
Two poems
"Almost Animal"
Two poems
"Glowing with Joy"
"Poem With the Last Line as the First"
"Dogfight"
"The Fox"
"canis latrans / coyote"

Didi Jackson's Website.

About My Infinity:

"Didi Jackson's My Infinity is an infinitely expansive collection with an acute sensitivity to the infinitesimal, 'the small thump' of a goldfinch hitting the window, 'the flash of gold / against the mica sky // as the limp feathered envelope / crumples into the green.' The magnitude of the sorrows these poems address is harmonized by, and filtered through, a ravishing network of the deeply witnessed particularities, the holy details, of the natural world. Bringing sweep and texture and experimental energy to the collection are boldly imagined ekphrastic poems, originating from the work of Swedish abstract artist and mystic Hilma af Klint. These poems unbolt a portal, allowing Jackson to access her own visionary powers, the language of 'hunger and awe.' The result is a poetry so alive that it has the capacity to cradle the dead, to offer a 'mercy that strips us naked to each other.' I am moved and transformed by Didi Jackson's infinity."
—Diane Seuss

"In the beautifully rendered book of poems, My Infinity by Didi Jackson, the speaker's voice is meditative, pensive, and warm. Tonally, these poems represent that time of day which is near dusk and twilight, when the day is mostly finished, but is scarred with too much knowledge. My Infinity grapples with the aftermath of a lover's suicide, alongside new love and joy. Whether it is corresponding with the visual art of Hilma af Klint or the natural world, nothing is too small for this speaker to look at, as with a microscope, and correspond with, as one might correspond with the moon. Here is a poet of witness of awe alongside the music of pain and grief, and of the 'mercy that strips us naked to each other.'"
—Victoria Chang