DOUG JONES: from ‘Posts’

9/12/15“Through the gap in passers-by could see wall animals

tugging at the leads, but painted in profile their thoughts

were a mystery. 2 men talked. One said ‘once I realised a

paradise wasn’t possible, the next I no longer cared.’ In his

time had executed many of the cavalries on reality, he

wanted everyone to know. Other held his hand, palm

upward; an administrator. People closed over, with

crooked arms”



“JAK faces both ways – to world outside + down into the

block, quiet there this Xmas, waits for train travelling

almost unimaginably fast, who transcript a tall, 2-faced

man that swings upon a handle.. ?life, or continued journey

on the train, back to surface of the cell, making new peace

+ war. To high transitional bow of song, revelry – written on

a protein. Then underworld again, back again to STAT”



“If the littoral excites, or kills, we ask why – wrecked on

island shore, lines of oilmen + flat coloured fish, barely

functional – did have to end this way? One day humans

unearth a beautiful girl in protean glass, who treat us as

new forms – gives food, elegant room to sleep. Poor

Crusoe only had an island, we add the sun! But function

of her salinity, led to horrors, all of us, is out – host all its tide”



“Perhaps it might not be possible to get him to come home,

at all to his gymnasium where everyone you’ve ever met or

known does work, + makes themselves longer, like they

were a foreign co. Roll up edifying machines, strange sea

apparatus, tapestry – there’s nothing there – apart from the

phrase of a body in peace. Why get back to that, like fish –

To illuminate, then read, in determination”



“Sma, greatest milk on earth, rich fats best for babies’ teeth,

hands – she’ll soon be grown, talking on thru a thin wood

door; saying ‘was an amateur, but now in sales, my back’s

robust, I cycle here.’ have the most beautiful strong dark

eyes, keep well mostly, but is a fathomlessness in my

chest – with no end.’ ‘?What was the name of the milk, that

allowed me to rise up – + so destroy my sense?’



“1st thing – no radio on, it’s dark – my bones knit, together

new bloods design in red, sinews quiet share, I cover. This

the young age. I collect my personality + memories torn to

pieces by sleep, join in mother, morning, passionate about

time + the face/Someone outside heard – broke in shouts,

cries indistinct – O princess. I whisper mechanically,

advantage is so abrupt”



“Man walks into a room, of course this is no room – it’s the

library, the world – but you’re wearied in it. Paintings,

clinical cases full of people getting out of great baths – just

art as Rembrandt said. Each 1 soaped in data, history, set

as amnion. + yr fat naked body climb on scanning

machine, good for soft tissue + context. Venus, the sea

water greviously replaced me – me! With the upregulating




“Illuminated spontaneously, + together – an infant observes

me. On the ward, quite calm, forking his usual, spirit train

in the light. Which one am I? Hadn’t realised the

significance, how this kid would vindicate this, obvious

inflammation, sat there, quiet. I + him, who knows.

Composed of an essential whiteness. As overzealous, ill at

ease, I met him. Intelligible. Near lit his face – different to




“Henry harmless, posthumous guy. When 1st met was

young, built like a house, busy in the street, a dancer. To

describe him now, where would be the end? Last he was

off, dissatisfied. No help, he said. I may be splendid, but

I’m out of time – a renting drifting cloud. Questions, not

physicality were the ruin of him. Wife stayed on, skilled in

art of falconry, archer. At the butts, never the weaker”


Note: JAK/STAT is a key entry protein sequence for many cellular reactions, SMA is a degenerative neurological condition.


Doug Jones was born in Romford and initially studied English at Warwick, he then completed an MPhil on the poet Bill Griffiths. While doing his MPhil he fell in with Bob Cobbing’s Writers Forum group – which was a huge influence. After college, he worked as a nurse in east London for many years and then as a doctor in Norfolk. He is married with 2 children and is currently working as a GP in Yarmouth. He has published two poetry books with Veer. Work has also appeared in datableed, VLAK and Zone  – as well as a few other places.



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