Author Archives: Dick Jones

Under The Lip of Sleep

GRAND OPERA AND PARLOR JUNK Tallahatchie Flats, north of Greenville on the banks of the Tallahatchie River. A barren field some 2 acres long. A mighty tent, roped and guyed:ship’s cable onto 2 foot long stakes. 4 union flags banging … Continue reading →

As it is said,through the bleakand hollow laughwhereby weaccommodatethe grimmest truths,that no good deedshall go unpunished,so it is that everythingof light and beautycarries close behindits shadow self. Thusit is that the priceof love shall be griefand the gall of griefshall … Continue reading →

Hiatus is a poem set to music by Gemma Moorby of MoorbyJones. The song was created on the piano and this audio file is a rough recording that Gemma did for me so as to work towards a bass part. … Continue reading →

For a couple of years – from its provenance somewhere in the quietest part of lockdown – I’ve been moving this poem towards a final draft. Paul Valéry (apocryphal?) tells us that a poem is never finished, only abandoned. So … Continue reading →

Kodak, Blaise Cendrars’ series of American vignettes, was published in 1924 by Stock.The edition – much sought after on the rare book market now – included a portrait of the poet by his friend Francis Picabia. In Kodak Cendrars employs … Continue reading →

WHITE FIELD IN BARLEY Here in my August days,at the top of White FieldI open my hand; I spreadmy fingers and I palmthe barley heads all downthe slope to the lane below. She leaves Keeper’s Lodgeat 4.00 in the morning.Dew … Continue reading →

ICARUS

This poem has a curious provenance. I wrote it 14 years ago in a white-heat continuity of days. Once started, it spilled out prolifically in long sequences of verses and stanzas – to such an extent, in fact, that I … Continue reading →