Sunday, March 1, 2015

Three Poems by Ken L. Jones

On Native Horses

The sunlight filters through my anointed wanderings
And becomes newborn but never becomes necessary
To the barnacled sea that is asleep by these citrused shores
As dusty as the twelve string guitar
It has been many a year since I’ve played upon
The color orange has gone
Slo-mo is gone but the fog is forever
As I awake in sunflowers clotted with shadows
As mechanical as the Mississippi River
Until I am once more drawn to the swirly
Tie-dyed patterns of the nearby throbbing city
Which welcomes me back sardonically
With its cloven hooves and brimstone cape.


Unlimited Refills

The miracle that is the night is almost over
Dawn is twinkling here and there as it eats up the dark
The whole town is quiet like a deer that has found a leafy shelter
And hopes to hide from bullets there
And as of yet still the rush of noon is a hesitant violinist
Whose schezo is just now scratches merely sounds waiting to take form
And on a few broken cat hairs in a cloud of powder
It will arrive at last standing on its own two legs as a thing that is fully formed.

I’ve Never Forgotten

The rocks and seaweed were dressed up in Greek mythology
While I waited for her by a lighthouse on a roaring beach
There where the rocky outcroppings stretched out like reflections in funhouse mirrors
While switching boxcar like frail clouds come apart the minute
That they touch the oh most loud and full of traffic bridge on this seacoast of trembling storms
Until something like the long dead Hendrix plugged all this in like it was a Stratocaster
Then played it upside down until a hexagon of constellations was brought forth
And all things bark encrusted melted into a most succulent bliss
With all the abandonment of a bacchanalia with only this poet as its witness
To try to bring it all forth to you with words that sometimes fail him.

For the past thirty-five years Ken L. Jones has been a professionally published author who has done everything from writing Donald Duck Comic books to creating things for Freddy Krueger to say in some of his movies.  In the last six years he has concentrated on his lifelong ambition of becoming a published poet and he has published widely in all genres of that discipline in books, online, in chapbooks and in several solo collections of poetry.  

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