-

the hands–
they still move

when i was too little
to know what it was,

i slobbered all over it
and knocked it over

daddy would just
wipe it off

check the time

and put it back on
the night stand

—

they still move...



s jones
2023




.

maybe the earth knows or
the body knows first
what he or she dares
immersed in sunsets
and adverbs
lions make themselves
prey in blue windows
outside the fle/ash  of words
the verbs of the world
inside a shepherd whistles
a love song
to the sweetness of grass

don’t make me write another poem
with fancy words cause I don't know ‘em

I’ll write a book or short article
make science notes about a particle

a brief speech or an opinion piece
type a travel blog of sunny Greece

I’d gladly pen a romance novel
if poetry’s asked I’d sooner grovel

I’ve lost the power of rhyme you see
as fork and spoon sound the same to me

but now I see what I have written
it reads like Edward Bulwer-Lytton

I’m stuck in couplets what a curse
but what the hell it could be verse

The
        sudden chill
    that marked
the
     end
  of last
         month
      surprised me
   because
   the weather
     forecast
  said
      it would stay
warm
  perhaps
warmer than
  was
   comfortable
     for
   this time
    of my year
I was surprised
but not
dismayed
       because my
   summer
   clothes
      were packed
     away a long
   long time ago
   and
I was not
          sure
If I’d find
something
safe for me
             to wear.
     ljm

I remember
it was fog and
then it was light and
I was already falling
outside of myself
thank you
for showing me
the way back
thank you
for wonder
with it
I write poetry
everyday