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-

she stands there with
equal curiosity and
reaches as i do
towards the
surface

thinking
how we both
could dismiss the
truth of the glass—

knowing
we each think
alike and are of
the same mind

believing
in each other's
convictions of
being

accepting
the warmth
of our fingertips

to prove we each
exist on opposite
sides

wishing to join
one another

looking deep into
focused eyes

whispering
permission

to allow the
other's hand
to slip aside

and
pass              
through...



s jones
2020



.
Whenever I look up to the night sky,
My eyes travel all the way to the dark space between two stars
Where black holes lay in hiding
To forever **** the light out of any free spirited celestial body passing by...

At such times, I am reminded of my own mind...
The dark spaces between the lobes of my brain
Where monsters lay in waiting to **** the light
Out of any happy memory that flies by...

Is it just a coincidence?
Random reflections!
Thank you for kindly taking the time to read ❤ ❤
-

in case you was curious,
that "©" which appears
at the end of a writer's

printed work is purposed
to indicate copyrighted
materials within it's body

recorded —somewhere—

on government stationary in
a government office located in
a government city guarded

by government agents who
typically are out to lunch on
the government's dime

(our dime)

but My lil " ©" doesn't
cost all that much, like if
you buy stickers from

an alarm security outfit for
seventeen bucks to throw on
the front and rear windows
of your house,

instead of the $ 1,700 system
that wont go off unless
YOU are there to
turn it off.

still, its nice to know—

a burglar would be less likely
to risk setting it off from
reading the copyright notice
                                                   anyhow...



s jones
© 2020

.
Video link
https://youtu.be/0HXAyHo0T0w

cute lil poem about
© dogs that bark,

but dont bite...
-

stripping off bark,
carefully neat
unbroken
strings,
and then
into the bone
of the branch

bigger chips follow suit
as the carving
continues

the knife peels, chunking
out rough pieces as
they litter the floor

later to be swept aside
into darkness

years pass in solitary
cutting as cars
go slowly by

looking where the front porch
is buried at one end with
the chips of his wilderness

displaying no
ornaments
to show
for the labor

no birds
no raccoons
no whistles
not even his cane

pare of nothing
but the pile—

all he is...


s jones
2020

.
 Nov 2020 grumpy thumb
r
Some may think
a spark
is just a spark
a weak attempt
at a start
to a flame
when in fact
it is the beginning
of an art
found in the ashes
and stone cold bones
of a dark hole
in Zhoukoudian.
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