a keeping of structure framed into the confines
of expectations for readers who are by far more
educated and better read than if i can just keep
to writing within those experience perimeters of
uhhh, someone else—

who claims to have seen that the world is about
roughly the size of a really really big asteroid,
hiding behind the thumb of an astronaut floating
some distance away from the pad i wrote my
last poem on a quarter-sheet of tissue paper

with a china marker.

As per the vocational experts of my youth;
i may well have qualified for the position of
"document shredder",
or even the author of small gift books—

—had ANY of this material fallen into
the wrong hands...

"freeverse"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved

One day i had a detailed look
at a 24 inch machine scale and
pondered some new ways to
relate to the sizes of things

some "inch" scales are in gradients of
decimals and i see them divided into
tens, those tens in turn divided to
even smaller tens, thus~

1.00 =    1               inch    
0.10 =    1/10  th    inch    
0.01 =    1/100th    inch    


1/100th of an inch is very small but i see
certain things that my mind can measure,
like the size of the Earth— a little less than
eight thousand miles in diameter.

i can see a mile, but not thousands,
so my magic scale says:

1" = 1,000 mi, thus
Earth = about 8"

i imagine holding Earth in my hand
like a small beach ball, then i figure
that the moon is about 2 1/4" big.

how far away is it, i wonder ?
let me grab a tape measure :)

given what i have on hand, now there
is a basketball and a tennis ball lying
some 20 feet apart from each other
in the back yard

i look upon all this and fathom it in—

but this vision now zooms upon my "Earth" ball
with the scale situated conveniently next to it.
detailing the texture of its surface, my eyes
become disproportionately larger than my brain—

observing the Space Station
cruising about 0.15 above it,

the clouds hovering at 0.01,

and further still through the winds of upper distances,
descending between the smallest of lines to my
mere figment of a presence at
1/100th the size
of this tiny
period
dot
.  

— leaving me to wonder how
i could possibly have even
glimpsed all of this—

from way down
                              Here...

"Scale"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved

Pregnant Penelope placed
pealed pears in pairs in a
path which pickled preacher
Percy just previously pondered.

Pealing downstreet in a Plymouth,
he placed the gear down and
pushed the peddle purposefully
upon patent plush carpeting

PLOW!!

Poor pealed pears pushed
plumb with the pavement,
they promptly exploded..

Oh Please ! Pause !!!
Plllhhheewfff,
puke...

preposterous poetry should
be punished promptly with
proper penalty,

BUT

regretfully someone
will plagiarized such
pompous penning

Alas, THEY shall be known
for the **** they pass
in some preferred
publication,

which —personally— would
please the p*** out of me...

"intentionally poor ****"
© 2007-2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved

my ears soak inside-out in a seltzer
filled glass on my bedroom nightstand
each evening so that the ringing will
hopefully dissolve and settle to the bottom

they dream of wingtips that the
maple can hear through the leaves
as they stir the breeze upon landing,
the patter of avian claws gripping
the bark in short scoots,

the stretch of a twig bending downward
with the slightest brush of a feather, the
splitting noises of a newborn’s egg,
and even the breath taken before
the whoosh of a dive—

they awaken this morning with
words and imagination bringing
forth a new voice,

one which reads aloud to them
about the simple sounds
that birds can make...



"a whoosh unheard"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved

my footfalls translate to mileage in the
way that feathers can be lost to a given
amount of wing beats—

each iteration of propulsion will shed
bits of material,

and these are mixed into the sands that are
splashed across beaches, bleached and
eventually broken down into elemental shapes

one of those grains flew and landed on a
boardwalk and then another one
kicked it aside many years ago
by some distant shoreline,

they now lie together in my path—
why i know this is anyone's guess,
but surely the math is in my favor

needless to say, even if my remains withstand
the sands of time there wont be anyone
left to recognize me,

yet i am certain a piece of me will always
be a few steps ahead somewhere,

either washed there from a recent gale,
or maybe blown from the nostrils
of a passing sea gull...

"shoes and feathers"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved

a large hand from outer space
descended to the Earth's surface
and with a finger and thumb,

grabs me by the belt at the seat
of my pants,

hoisting me straight up like
a fish out of water for
viewing with a great
concern...

He turns my tinyness toward Him
and looks me eye to eye, frowning
in disapproval—

"I dunno, maybe You should
just,
                 toss me away??"

His face then smiled a little,
and with a sigh ,

i was gently lowered
back down...

"Intervention"
©2007-2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved

my panic sack would have
contained enough breath
to blow out most of this
year’s birthday candles

inverted,

a mask tumbles out like
some kind of lung-wallet,

hinting whispered
passwords

i hyperventilate into it
with resignation upon
each casting of a socially
distant wave

splashing between crests—

a sense of security swells
in my chest as i drown in

absolute safety...


"pest bag"
©2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved