THE CHART ROOM

There's still an opening in a teacup.
Sealed within walls and windows
storms feel free to rage
without searching for respite,
gray waves of cascading words and flesh.
Still, an opening, still.

RECENT FINDINGS

There is no light from the lamp,
or the street
I am left
with the memories of trying to find
water.

How I prayed to the gods,
not even my own,
how I
appeared to myself
in mirage
without a name


[a lot of Jones' book deals with antiquity, especially in terms of ancient Greece/Rome, this is one of the many things that really appeals to me about it. I've said before that Jones' picture reminded me of Dylan Thomas, his poetry does in ways to; his connection to the old world really stalks through the lines.]

LONTANO

Our cousins are
distant

walking alone, a long way

through definitions
we could be closer right now




[this is my poem in response to Jones' "Lontano" which leads off the book, because I do not want to tread on any legal issues that may exist I won't post Jones' poems here, only my responses to them]

Introduction

You know how some people say sometimes a book chooses you rather than the other way around? In the case of Long After Hannibal Had Passed With Elephants by Alan Jones there's no other way to describe it. I don't remember where the book came from or even when it showed up in my life. I've had it for a while now, and I probably go back to it every few months, if not more often. It's a small book, populated by truly unique small poems filled with worlds of their own. (It's also one of my favorite book titles of all time).

Each time I return to this book I end up spending tons of time scouring the internet for more information on Jones, more books, something. I've found very little. Certainly no more collections of poems. He apparently has written some books on art.

It's probably safe to say I'm obsessed with this book. It was published by Edgewise Press in 1995, though it looks like it could have been 1955, even Jones' author photo reminds me of a picture of Dylan Thomas.

I want more poems by this guy. I want more collections of poems from him. I want to talk to him and be like "dude, where are you?"

Yesterday I emailed Edgewise and today received one in return from their President, who told me though he's known Jones for many years he has, in the last few years, lost track of him and doesn't know anyone in contact with him. This has prompted me to start this blog, a mishmash of thoughts about the book, any findings in my sporadic research, and poems written in answer to those in the book. If nothing else, it will be an adventure in reading and writing.