Smalljones aka Paul Jones

@smalljones.bsky.social

No longer a person of interest. @smalljones on most social networks. Something Wonderful (2021), Something Necessary (2024) Recent publications: smalljones.com

Some Rules
-Wendy Cope

Stop, if the car is going “clunk”
Or if the sun has made you blind.
Don’t answer e-mails when you’re drunk.

You fire off something fierce. You’re sunk.
It’s irretrievable. It’s signed.
You feel your spirits going “clunk.”

Don’t hide your face with too much gunk,
Especially if it’s old and lined.
Don’t answer e-mails when you’re drunk.

Don’t live with thirty years of junk—
Those precious things you’ll never find.
Stop, if the car is going “clunk.”

Don’t fall for an amusing hunk,
However rich, unless he’s kind.
Don’t answer e-mails when you’re drunk.

In this respect, I’m like a monk:
I need some rules to bear in mind.
Stop, if the car is going “clunk.”
Don’t answer e-mails when you’re drunk.

falling apart, making up
-John W Sexton

a man made of coins was spent by his wife
for angel's wings and a very sharp knife
she cut some cabbage just for the devil
and made him soup she stirred with a shovel
meanwhile her husband was counted in hell
all of his pieces until he was well
he climbed a ladder right up to the ground
and went him to his wife, each penny sound
he stole her wings and flew over the town
got struck by lightning; each penny fell down
she picked him up and put him together
penny by penny, feather by feather

Fall

The snake said “Follow me.” And so I did.
I gave up my limbs, both legs and both arms.
I dropped down on my belly so I could
join others fallen, so I could taste the dust,

that endless banquet of the finest dust.
And when the rain came, I slid in the mud.
And when the sun shone again, I was warm.
I loved the tall weeds, their seed-heavy heads

that bobbed in the light breeze. There I hid.
There the ground-hived bees shared their summer swarm.
Their music was something I understood,
something like the stars, like rain, like the dust.

Miraculous and mundane. Life close to dust,
close to roots, ravines, and rocks, was good.
Every hour was full of surprise and charm.
Then the snake said, "Climb this tree." And I did.

Let the Warning ride forth ONCE MORE: Tyranny is at OUR DOOR

*
O
fury-
bedecked!
O glitter-torn!
Let the wild wind erect
bonbonbonanzas; junipers affect
frostyfreeze turbans; iciclestuff adorn
all cuckolded creation in a madcap crown of horn!
It’s a new day; no scapegrace of a sect
tidying up the ashtrays playing Daughter-in-Law Elect;
bells! bibelots! popsicle cigars! shatter the glassware! a son born
now
now
while ox and ass and infant lie
together as poor creatures will
and tears of her exertion still
cling in the spent girl’s eye
and a great firework in the sky
drifts to the western hill.

$Rising With the Moon on Advent Eve This full moon on Advent's Eve, God's eye for those who believe that light seen over the eaves is too pure a true bereave- ment, that torn dark can't deceive, but leads us from fallen leaves, to fires and unperceived flares in the cold air, reprieve and punishment for naive stumbles, missteps, those years we've --till now--held close but must leave to find their fate reconceived as something sinless, achieved in lunar reflection, grieved, gathered like harvest, received and tossed, heaven hung in sheaves. For did not Christ hang with thieves, hang like the moon--lights retrieved, both at one and apart, cleaved in both senses, unaggrieved? When such goodness is received, light refracts and love relieves.$