from Poetry magazine
‘Ashley M. Jones is interested in the way that poetry can bring loved ones back to life.’ I am interested in the ways poetry can bury once loved ones without living memory.
poetry
a poem,
thoughts
brokenness
Japanese jar recreated with g gold to be more beautiful jars of clay
Jesus enters death embraces decay then dies
healing is imperfect here; never, ever to be complete; go on
this tent will decay; but on eternal soul attached to your, our human body will live by Spirit
How can I live my the spirit every day?
listen to…
London women’s voices
‘ I am so happy for you
He sounds so nice, a serious guy
It’s only been a week
Yea but he sounds like a truthful guy someone you can believe…
… better get on that,’
overheard tube voices: partners
I give my
seat up
pregnant,
she nods, then a partner with her, standing,
listens,
‘So Friday we will do to Ambleside from Euston and have our getaway.’ We can leave ’bout 3?’
Pause.
I am not leaving the -the Germany game. It starts at 5. Germany
France.
Can we-Let’s go Saturday.
‘But we lose a day-and we have dinner reservations’
World Cup, Germany, France
No
‘It’s one game’
It is a semi-final. No.
‘I am trying to help you here I can work out the times’
‘If we leave Euston at
two…’
Pregnant
Pause
No
We are cutting it too close; I can’t miss the start. Cn you go to the dinner with someone else? I’ll catch you on Saturday? I’ll come then.
‘Can’t we…’
the next…Moorgate station
Pause
He leans over for a goodbye kiss,
exits; she
works
her
Phone.
orphan, 1st draft
I publish the finished poem ‘orphan’ at http://www.charles.osewalt.com
This was the first draft
orphan
there is No one, No
One
as alone as a twin, separated at birth from their other
there is -no memories, no moments, no image of your other; there is only aching sorrow of an unremembered, intense presence
there only is a pain, a hurt, a lacking. an abyss of-sorrow remains.
it is that which all the bitter hate of a world can not fill
try as I might yearly, daily, momentary
perhaps, if I could find my other, we could fill sorrow’s abyss- together,
with our combined bitterness and
hate?
women’s voices. London 1
women’s voices on London buses, trains. Angry, low, fast and choppy. Never too loud. Phone voices, voices. And a non emotional voice ‘this is a Central line train to Epping.’ Calm reassuring. A sister’s, a mother’s voice.
Still
I don’t know how many times I have to tell you
You moved the project and didn’t listen to
But Scott listen to the sequence and hear why I am somewhat cross with you
What?
Yes tomatoes -then drinks?
The outcome needs to change Scott. Can you see my side? Listen-
‘This is Hackney Wick. This is the London Over ground service to Stratford the next station is Stratford.’
‘Mind the step.’
Hello B… I am yes are you ok I am going into Stratford and have a cab to catch bye.
Black tonight. Yes. Tonight.
‘This is Stratford our final stop. Thank you for riding the London over ground.’
Scott, good, so we
to do
to do
she touched him
No love
yet she touches, her guilt
yours
her, her touch is forced by
failure, hers and yours
yours, yours
she, yours, cannot do what she cannot desire to
Do
I fail
love love
Unnamed
can you, you, smell lovely to me?
can you think, express lovely thoughts with your eyes
to for me?
Can, can, you wear a strawberry sweater
& offer free & total love, a moment, of
for all?
All hurts
All forgotten moments?
hurts
All Marla’s? yellow hair, too long and beautiful for me?
All Mona Leo’s? an ache in her voice because she could not come to The Band on New Year’s Eve?
All Barbara’s? ‘the loving me, killing, softly?’ room 937? the hiding and sleeping the lost? itself lost.
what can I offer you? alone, a searcher? My name? Yes & also just
just my deep Deepest needs, desires
a moment’s moments
only only one moment. alone you, me alone or only
my offer? me
I offer, I can do
do the same for and with you.
& and forgive, Forgive your hurts, your & my aloneness,
I am in with love, I touch
your past- but I
I fail
drafts 