20171121

Jon Cone


Letter to Edith 
 
A light went off just now. Not the light                    
of an idea      above my head, but a literal                              
light –    a bulb             The wiring                                       
in this cold farmhouse is shabby 

Almost made it, someone once told 
me       The words   hung secluded                  
in blue air    in such             awful      
trembling manner          as to suggest                          
complicity   with pale leaves                                      
turned over in winds          below                         
humid thunder                

They are small         
unanchored                   praises                             
sung by crows         and tyrants who                 
rule by tantrum           and proclaim                      
wood     from the pine works best   



               Field Event (2005)

 
                                                Caw 
                                                Cow 

                                                Caw 
                                                Cow 

                                                Caw 
                                                Cow 

                                                Cow 
                                                Cow 

                                                Caw 



               Field Event (2009)


Pitch Pitch Pitch Pitch Pitch Pitch Pitch Pitch Pitch Pitch Pitch Pitch Pitch Pitch Pitch Pitch FORK-FORK-FORK-FORK ______________ Requiescat in Pace Anonymous Mole
                   Field Event (2007)                Under sky under cloud                Blade worked into earth                A clod a clod a clod a clod a clod                 (pentameter is death)                A clod wo|rm a clod a clod a clod a clod                               Caption: A Children’s Rhyme
                              The modern day shovel is made                               Of grip, shaft, socket & blade                               Of grip, shaft, socket & blade                               Is the modern day shovel made                               A Murder of Sublime Coordination                                               Crow                                                                                            Crow Crow Crow Crow Crow Crow Crow Crow Crow Crow Crowd Crow Crow Crow Crow Crow Crow Crow Crow




Jon Cone is a Canadian poet who lives in Iowa City. He has an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts, and for eight years edited the international literary review World Letter. His latest collection COLD HOUSE is available from Espresso-Chapbooks of Toronto, Ontario, Canada.
 
 
previous page     contents     next page
 

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home