in the wisps of mist
stroking the curves
of a sleeping mountain
I hear a call

husky tones
siphoned off
by a cold wind
mocking

I see you still
as a filtered moon
drifts over my lashes
quivering

like the scent of you
as we dance
skin to skin
close

-


in case you may not know, it was the last car
at the end of a train, usually it was a red or
occasionally a yellow color which would be
clearly noticed

this car was manned in order to monitor the
train from that end for any issues, particularly
in case an axle from one of the coal cars locks
up and catches on fire

but i guess this feature was eliminated due to
improvements in the wheel assemblies, or maybe
because they had new electronic monitoring for the
crews in the locomotives

if you are under the age of thirty, this may not have
been general knowledge to you since the use of these
cars were phased out sometime in the 1980's, now a
red flashing light signifies the end of the train

you can see one of these cars parked near the city
square just north of the Tennessee/Kentucky
border in Guthrie— there is just enough rail
underneath to hold it braked in place

i think the rails once extended to the mainline
and the car was trapped there when acetylene
cutters terminated its route in either direction.

the men who rode it are now
the ghosts of everlasting
employment.

now we have thousands riding the
caboose of their careers amidst
red blaring lights that flash
from all imaginable
directions—

many of them sitting motionless
upon routes that go nowhere...



s jones
2010-2020

loving you......











has taught me to love
MYSELF

unscrambled brains look nothing like they should

i watch
a child racing his bike uphill
chasing a purple sunset
mercifully he will never catch it
unless i'm wrong of course
and he realizes meaning
and he comes to understandings
all on his own, before he is prepared to
bear witness to  his own sadness
his place in the world
awakening too quickly, too young
to the ineffable journey
before him

its already begun

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.