-

in order to
"poem"
             BIG—

i must learn
to write
              small...


s jones
2021


.

-

on the Sea of Tranquility sits
evidence of alien visitors
to this world ;

underneath one of the footings lie
the crushed remains of an indigenous
being who was delivering a message

inside a six-fingered metacarpus
entanglement is a wrinkled sheet
of aluminum with the following
etched in broken Earthling—

"we never sent invitations
and we never asked you
for anything–

Please,
               go home..."


s jones
2021

.

-

a fixture for a canvas
of words that spatter
like mud thrown upon
a concrete wall

creaks like ice coated
branches from such
weight and is then

topped off with finials,  
failures of preambles,
rambles and scrambles,

—

the legs snap and the
easel falls to the floor
with a slap—

imprinting the surface
with an exact opposite

that someone in passing
thinks should be a good
fit for a reading...


s jones
2021

.

-

in a landfill one day i saw an
immigrant family take an old
bed and strap it across the top
of a banged up SUV that was

missing it's left front clip, the
headlight was taped where a
socket would have held it,
like a discombobulated eyeball

clearly marked on the edge
of the mattress was the
following in Red Sharpie—

"DO NOT SALVAGE"

the same warning i remember  
writing on Momma's deathbed
decades earlier, her stain clearly
visible on one side.

there was nothing to be said, 
even if i could speak fluently
against what was apparently

—for them—

clearly accepted
terms...


s jones
Mar 2021


.

-

for centuries people have set aside
special days to schedule certain events,
mark a historic point in humanity,
or signify the passing of a torch

so perhaps within such varieties the
makers of calendars could introduce
to the world in all their wisdom,

A Wildcard Day

a day that people can do anything with
and be able to place it at will within a
positioning scheme of convenience,

empowering it so that
you can substitute any
pending occasion,

say like, (insert bad day here)

so that you can make
it yesterday,

put it off until
next week,

or at the very least—

resituate it anywhere
but to—day...


s jones
Feb 2021


.

-

That line in the distance which
defines the boundary between
the Heavens and the Earth

is not even a line–
actually it is an arc,
so i have fooled
myself already.

I imagine this as a border
constituting what i can
and cannot reach

with all the lofty fixtures
of space high above

and the rocks below—

my endurance erodes
between them.

I admit to having grown
fond of the certainty
this divide represents

because it renders the scope
of my options unambiguous.

Still, i fancy some rungs–
a way to step up
so i can place hopes
just above that threshold,

but having attempted to
measure the height of
"Jacob's Ladder",

i realize success could mean
my condemnation to
a hopelessness
below...


s jones
2021


.