Three Poems by Ken L. Jones

Without Falling Apart

It is December and yet October still bobs
Like a message in a bottle on an unstill sea
Near a dead cornfield whose flapping wings call out to me
As words that have never been
Die in a sky that trembles like an easel
In the garden behind the speechless pool table
That in memories becomes mummified
Even as it snuggles up to the comfort blanket
Of the long and measureless hours



Bliss

The trees are nourished by the floating candles of the morning air and mist
But the detritus of feelings ragtag and lonely arrive in homeless shopping carts
And yet I remain underwater in a ground up honey that creates a new Garden of Eden
That renews my sense of magic and wonder as storm clouds dance through the learning palms



In Patchwork Baskets

My name is now the rolling hills that are near a whirly gig
Of a long untamed river where salmon jump clear to the moons of Jupiter
Above the jam and crackers barns whose chocolate studded ranch animals
Dissect the degrees of visibility in the belly of shopping destinations
That can exorcise all humans with their blurred and psychedelic semi stacked layers
Of unbreakable fall flowers whose bitter sweet beauty
Is asystematical and blunt as summer time butterflies
In the wire basket of a fifty-foot waterfall





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.