{"id":3483,"date":"2015-04-28T14:18:10","date_gmt":"2015-04-28T14:18:10","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/?p=3483"},"modified":"2015-05-07T16:13:17","modified_gmt":"2015-05-07T16:13:17","slug":"doug-jones-from-posts","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/3483\/doug-jones-from-posts\/","title":{"rendered":"DOUG JONES: from POSTS"},"content":{"rendered":"

19\/9\/13<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cLook in the tight, hard knot at the top the bed + you\u2019ll see<\/p>\n

concrete faces of women in it \u2013 struggling, ragged \u2013 like the<\/p>\n

pictures of gunmen you get in a yellow walled bus station<\/p>\n

concourse, who eyeball, sans insight, tired queues of the 50%<\/p>\n

of people about to leave town. Fat, dug faces looking out to<\/p>\n

raven a blunted yellow room \u2013 a loneliness, an abandon \u2013 back in<\/p>\n

bed, they curled away, manifest, set\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

26\/9\/13<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHundred broken windows in the maternity hospital, but the<\/p>\n

nagging thought if I\u2019ve not made a new hundred yet -? is that<\/p>\n

still relevant.. What about your plans. Have you the weight of<\/p>\n

still being rose in the yard.. But these are a fire\u2019s thoughts \u2013<\/p>\n

what\u2019s it like to understand, grace, of what the other stems in<\/p>\n

the yard describe \u2013 what may they make of our walled, measure,<\/p>\n

a slow great born rose of glass\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

3\/10\/13<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cTurning R into the A143 it struck me, on x\/y \u2013 they say all the<\/p>\n

right things \u2013 get themselves admitted to the genus, or were it<\/p>\n

the family \u2013 but they are still as yellow as the daffodil that\u2019s<\/p>\n

written in an entirely different sex. Island chain of perception,<\/p>\n

out of which the road come, all descended from a common land.<\/p>\n

See them here \u2013 eating crisps + drinking pop in armchair R \u2013 legs<\/p>\n

open, yellow as a car\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

10\/10\/13<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cLex gets knitting, a labyrinth of hidden colour brought out, pure<\/p>\n

platonic thought thread tied to ideation of space, shared,<\/p>\n

inflaming the eye, communal forms who touch. But found, just<\/p>\n

joined to perception that builds, + sets over the base out which<\/p>\n

5 walls climb. Beauty, fallen short of sound, directed on others<\/p>\n

are made\/blossom, now look \u2013 as it were wind\/gravity\/rain \u2013 to<\/p>\n

radiate in her mind\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

17\/10\/13<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cSpider, poor emaciated creature, stilled in anger \u2013 father loves<\/p>\n

him not, galled this middle brain, his compound eye, the things it<\/p>\n

might have seen could it see the hairs of an angel\u2019s arm.. would<\/p>\n

they call a ransom to this mirror, its absorptive power, forbid any<\/p>\n

tongue to speak of anything but a sign? I\u2019ll find him where he lies<\/p>\n

thus + in his ear holler \u2018mirror\u2019, spider. What. In his impoverished<\/p>\n

home town\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

24\/10\/13<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHad to write this down \u2018cause I can\u2019t draw a picture – ?of some<\/p>\n

space body, like a spider, well, where would be the reason? A<\/p>\n

vague symbol put to heaven, why? I can\u2019t see properly, + it\u2019d be<\/p>\n

wrong, an innovation, to ascribe likeness over + above a cool<\/p>\n

unfolding that dipped perception down to a certain point – +<\/p>\n

then requested it extend its leg in faith. I record such matter<\/p>\n

whenever I hear a horrible song\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

31\/10\/13<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cRoman Empire, it had a clear and good cognition \u2013 but how<\/p>\n

sufficient was her look? It presented disproportionate along a<\/p>\n

long human throat, wearing high, black jeweln. All major to the<\/p>\n

story painted to the kids; overthrow the kings, = drive out into a<\/p>\n

spider life awareness \u2013 a state, which to the eye is piercing,<\/p>\n

bold. Rome, your dark queens, princesses created more than<\/p>\n

just a fixed, unshakable neck\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

7\/11\/13<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cA146, thinking on redemption; thoughts follow me close, even to<\/p>\n

the horizon. World\u2019s full of all kinds of holy meat \u2013 thorns; there\u2019s<\/p>\n

7\/11 of spiders, rabbits, beetles, other hounds \u2013 theirs mossy<\/p>\n

limbs intertwined find in buckram green, these greying fields a<\/p>\n

visceral hit of flesh lingering to ?dressing of their faces \u2013 can you<\/p>\n

see their legs, their hands? Thinking about it, it\u2019s a small loss + or<\/p>\n

is it madness?\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

14\/11\/13<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cAll my life, been on the side of the goodies – + now here I am in<\/p>\n

this curry house: + now I\u2019m in love with Beauty + the fine boned<\/p>\n

spider is my monograph. I feel, I sense the great, shaking illness<\/p>\n

these drawn, lovely creatures must go down to; enervation<\/p>\n

penetrating every inch of their heart + tact \u2013 so much like<\/p>\n

pipsqueaks.. expecting a poem to restore turning, useless limbs.<\/p>\n

But ah, I forget the spec\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

21\/11\/13<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cSpiders have no heart \u2013 their hearts are made of wood. There is<\/p>\n

no understanding of the pump, in a spider. So they use the<\/p>\n

centre of their body like a filter, to find a music in ions, cells \u2013 but<\/p>\n

are at a halt \u2013 this heart, being made of trees + must make do<\/p>\n

as an old heraldic song*yet \u2013 in the mighty forests that fill our<\/p>\n

society\/still + do for a 1000 years \u2013 even before we think of<\/p>\n

what to play, or where to live\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

28\/11\/13<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cSilver sky eaten up O animal fenced in little bars of iron rust lain<\/p>\n

by for many long years in an utter sphere with your tired black<\/p>\n

back, suns at the top \u2013 like a skirt, a glass vase, below it a<\/p>\n

railway-line, a marsh then earth. Her melting corners, limbs float<\/p>\n

up to flower you window out which you see the sun, bird below<\/p>\n

it, said an organising spider \u2013 below, a steel track, most<\/p>\n

conspicuously to be realised\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

5\/12\/13<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201c0state1state chimeric man who lives down the block, + with his<\/p>\n

family he go round Norfolk water like a swan. Suburb to suburb,<\/p>\n

the citizens of the canal make like man islands with<\/p>\n

neck\/shoulders of other beasts, mammal derived, e.g. a bather<\/p>\n

(great white thing) \u2013 to fuse their days but losing the ability to<\/p>\n

make milk; it\u2019s key to humanize a line that binds to a spider; to<\/p>\n

cleanse\/purify, to drive it out the inn\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

12\/12\/13<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cA 1000 who question filamentous green leaves, who come from<\/p>\n

earth, are found in the institutes of the cell landscape \u2013 I care<\/p>\n

for them that\u2019s so covered in a greenery that stops at Norfolk\u2019s<\/p>\n

glabrous sea; there the modular exception of trees, cooling oak<\/p>\n

plant finds its border + here native birds transmit construct..<\/p>\n

such is a GABA ?Is any spider integral to this transduction of<\/p>\n

bulbs, who source it + cycle\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

19\/12\/13<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cNorth Sea \u2013 blossoms in moments of social, economic collapse, so<\/p>\n

we devote to it ideas of resurrection: made up, substitute<\/p>\n

worlds. From our halls + stairways, the actual cars, furniture,<\/p>\n

clothes \u2013 all that\u2019s needed for a happy, successful life, gets<\/p>\n

taken + secreted in the deep. We, who did this, carry a<\/p>\n

profound residue of strangeness \u2013 as the water turns portraits<\/p>\n

of kings into those of our rooms\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

26\/12\/13<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cLion green, languid armed, North Sea \/ great outgasping of air<\/p>\n

that sits on a 3 arched bridge it was said from yr Atlantic, spine \/<\/p>\n

huge gases clamour in shipping*lanes like thru the endothelium<\/p>\n

of a marginal book; this unsound word made aspire \/ base thin,<\/p>\n

of plumbed, hungry cells engraving in river ruined history,<\/p>\n

poems \/ giants too in the dance. I\u2019ll transport them all before<\/p>\n

tomorrow, my breaths\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Doug Jones grew up in Romford, Essex. He studied English at Warwick University before starting nurse training at the beginning of the 1990s. After working as a nurse in the East End of London for around 15 years he did an MPhil on Bill Griffiths at Kings College, London. After that he did medical training. He has been attending the Writers Forum workshops in various forms\u00a0for nearly\u00a020 years, publishing one or two things in that time. In 2012 Veer books published Posts.<\/em> Work\u00a0has also appeared in \u00a0Veer Vier 4, Zone<\/em> and scabsarerats<\/em> magazines. A second Veer book is due out later this year. He is married with children and currently works as a junior doctor in Norfolk.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

19\/9\/13 \u00a0 \u201cLook in the tight, hard knot at the top the bed + you\u2019ll see concrete faces of women in it \u2013 struggling, ragged \u2013 like the pictures of gunmen you get in a yellow walled bus station concourse, who eyeball, sans insight, tired queues of the 50% of people about to leave town. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":3479,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"footnotes":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false},"categories":[40,12],"tags":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/04\/images-1.jpeg","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p42xiC-Ub","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3483"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3483"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3483\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3627,"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3483\/revisions\/3627"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3479"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3483"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3483"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3483"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}