into this deep

  • ounces

    I am sleeping here left to grow wings to fly on my own legs seem to tremble unsteady reassemble standing at the starting gate every day the same race I am floating here wings seem to tremble unsteady and bumbling progress measured in ounces have to celebrate the light with the darkness finding strength in…

    Amy Jones

  • Sandman

    hey there sandman. I see the salt at your feet. The tears that have dried that now you push aside. Piled high like mountains in your way. And i wave until the sunrise steals the last of you. Eyes too much to see. they do not sleep. A mind cannot rest when it wrestles with…

    Amy Jones

  • Keepsake

    —————————– I hold within my palm a rock it is smooth and shaped like an egg the colors like calico wet with rain it comforts little my ache it mends me not when torn it is just a rock and it lays in silent jest if it had a mouth it would be smirking “I…

    Amy Jones

  • Bang

    small child big bed lost in a room lost in her head The gray of her days by a rectangle window gave slight to light and tossed the lines haphazard and tangled. There came a knocking a pounding thrice times in the days shook the frame of her mind until crazy with fright! surrender surrender…

    Amy Jones

  • Home

    Ah, poetry, spring is really giving birth to my creative writing these days. Though this one leans toward the sad side. Within us, there are always sad corners, dark spaces, I believe. I cannot imagine anyone living the perfect life. There are times, we slip into the gray, yes? And they need voices too. ——————————————–…

    Amy Jones