-


we are all imaged by those
who would see us at our best

along with the paint that
inevitably chips away
in yearly frosts
and summer
droughts

because we will remain
—as always—
the easel upon which
God was inspired to
draw us...



s jones
Feb 2022



.

I like that you don’t know my name
this dangerous liaison
smacks of a suicide mission
in this day and age
flying solo in the erotisphere
carries all kinds of penalties
especially with broken wings
that have left me unable to soar
crawling like a serpent
banished from Eden’s beauty
for all the sins I have performed
no resistance to temptation
always accepting any fruit proffered
by shadows that pass through the night
the rings getting darker under eyes
that have seen too much bed
and not enough honest rest
too much passion with no feeling
blank faces and sweated screaming
I like that you don’t know my name
so you won’t judge me far less trace me
for my part I promise to never call again

feast on this very moment before it slips into the arrow of time, unchain the past - let it breathe

peel away the layers, let stillness fill the void

while the philosopher ponders, the warrior yields to peace and the troubadour plays on

in this moment you are boundless you are free

The tide comes in every day
Taking all the sandcastles away.

A different tide is on the way
Bringing a brand new day.

We shall see through all the lies
Look you're sisters and brothers in the eye.

No words needed
Awoken
Truth is spoken.

There is in sadness a sense of Fall, of spacious leprosy where crippled thought like the outmoded nymph dies behind each tree, and childlike peeks out to let at least childhood disbelieve in its unhappy end.
     There is in sadness, a branch that holds the once-upons, the happily-evers, and the destined-to-bes, a sweet find for all in grief.  Each stem lends momentum to their pluckings.
          There is in sadness, a young man who cherishes dead leaves.  He lately held waxen happiness and knew this as his permanence.

Once I knew not my Redeemer
Who had freed me from death.
When I seemed lost in this vast world -
Swimming, I held my breath.
Tossed by the great stormy sea,
Blinded by worldly cares,
Striving for things that'd never be,
Not a moment was rest.
The thunder did above me moan,
And lightning flashed in the sky,
And the flood did all o'er me pour,
Then I heard the Lord's cry:
Turn again, O loved sinner,
Return thou to thy home,
Why art thou in this vast water,
Waiting for thy doom?
I died upon the wooden cross,
That thou and many live,
Thou shalt not be lost,
If only thou believe!
Oh, how my heart then did rejoice
When I left all and all,
And I did raise my voice (loudly),
"Dear friends, do hear this call:
Turn again, O loved sinner,
Return thou to thy home,
Why art thou in this vast water,
Waiting for thy doom?
I died upon the wooden cross,
That thou and many live,
Thou shalt not be lost,
If only thou believe!"

the silvers of the moon
sing their song of winter,
exhilarating above the black
rock and distant trees, her
fire lights the night like a
street lamp, the shadows
thrown back, muted,
echoing the near-teary darks
of the clouds. i sit on the
window sill, look out,
breathe deep the midnight sky
built of love and winter rose.