Jill Jones Poems

Hit Title Date Added
The Desert

She's learning about the desert
where things are not as flat as they seem.
She needs the plain, the wind, scrub,
no longer believes mirages

The New Aesthetic

You’ve heard this story before –
becoming unravelled in Europe
or assaulted in some roadhouse
but bold as nipples and booted.

"It Wasn't Anywhere"

It wasn't anywhere I lived
exactly, it was more like time
full of laser dust, celebrity footballers
a zone of affable ravage

Mother I Am Waiting Now To Tell You

Mother about the letters i never wrote
the sirens outside batter my heart
and the fact i don't eat enough food
reminding me i am hungry

Saturday Morning In Ashfield

Fifteen minutes at the autobank, waiting for money,
and the nations stroll by with their children
and the new languages.
So many words for Saturday and shopping,

A Taste For Hunger

I have put my hand out to the word.
It’s been there for days. Hovering
between the newspaper and the television.

The Night Before Your Return

The night is kind tonight,
the sky is purple,
clouds are orange,
and planes fly away

The Kitchen Light

If the past is correct, it was here she couldn’t move.
They agreed on shadows, let dust slope across the light
buried watches under the bricks where the damp rose.

The Slide

Sometimes they put you in seas
or rivers without telling you.
The river is dark, let's say
and trees are low over you.

The Phantom Division

They're restructuring reality again
but you have to sit and wait your turn
the transfers have been coming down for weeks
and another truckload of files