Author Archives: Dick Jones

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 →

Starting from the raggy edgeof a night of demons –Crazy Helga in a blue roomacross the alley, her shadowwild & ticky on the busted blindas she wails in Germanat her TV screen.Jesus, what a sound:something dark & spinythrashing in her … Continue reading →

PETANQUE PLAYERS AT ST. ENOGART There are two men, this square of ground, the sun, the cypress tree. The men unpack their boules. The man in the blue shirt clacks a pair together. The man in the red shirt arcs … Continue reading →

wing. when there’s no memory of the moment of passage and tissue and salts have gone to the denizens themselves now gone to earth those feathers make a brave show folded still into the intelligence of flight as if they … Continue reading →