Jon Anderson Poems

When I was lonely, I thought of death.
When I thought of death I was lonely.

I suppose this error will continue.
...

Now that I'm actually living my solitude I'm clueless.
Every now & then the wind drops in & I look at it.
These are the signs of seasonal change: I'm not sweating,
& the hollow air in the chimney makes a thrumming noise.
...

Elevators, like great oaks
rise into the evening, and when they descend
you hardly know yourself.
All night
...

So, at last, we will cross.
Our season presupposes continents, lands
of desire. We toss
like unloved baggage where we stand,
...

Listen, Leo, remember the lifeboat
we pilfered from what you said
was an abandoned garage sale,
...

Then the air was perfect. And his descent
to the white earth slowed.
Falling
became an ability to rest--as
...