Embedded Dreams

We need rain, you bet, clouds
promise wind jazz, play low.
How risky, annihilation's here
on the street, gaping holes.

Facts are round as reality
breathing like faithful dogs.
Generations stage burning thoughts
the audience crosses its legs.

May your erasures rise
above stings and dreams
the friendly palm
mornings of machines.

Afterwards what's claimed
(no-one knows).

Other poems from 'Ash is Here, So are Stars'

Are You Worried About Yourself?

Reviews of 'Ash is Here, So are Stars'

A. Frances Johnson in Cordite Poetry Review
Lucy Alexander in Verity La
(And also see) Ali Alizadah's 'Best of 2012: The top 10 poetic works' in Overland

Other poems by Jill Jones

This is Friday high up
The eclipse
Palm and rope


A conversation with Jill Jones