NEW YEAR BEGUN

Here is a link to my chapbook collection NEW YEAR BEGUN published by Subpress Editions: https://cccpchapbooks.bigcartel.com/product/new-year-begun-selected-poems-of-Jon-cone

*** Please consider supporting small presses by purchasing their products.

Poem

SUNDAY 

Yesterday 

I watched Iowa beat Rutgers 

Today 

I want to sleep 

in an armoire and 

make my love 

a sandwich 

                                                                                  

MORNING POEM

 

 

That surf deep in your ear - 

a blue-green tinnitus? 

AN ICE CREAM TRUCK STALLED AT THE BOTTOM OF THE WORLD: plays by Rauan Klassnik and Jon Cone

Please consider purchasing a copy of this collection of plays that I co-wrote with Rauan Klassnik, The volume is attractively designed, the price modest. It was published by Plays Inverse (2020). Thank you for supporting the small press, where one can find a great amount of vital prose, poetry, and graphic art. 

Be well. 

The link to Plays Inverse is below. 






http://www.playsinverse.com/catalog/icecream.html

COLD HOUSE (Espresso_Chapbooks, 2017)

Please purchase a copy of my latest chapbook COLD HOUSE. 



Here is the link:

http://www.espresso-chapbooks.com/current.html

Thank you for supporting the work of the independent small presses.

All best,

Jon Cone

POEM

We tusk, we shed, we blaze, 
we pig. And so the sense hardens, 
becomes obsidian deep in our souls, 
but there are no souls, there is none -- 

but they do exist, another says,  
leagued with this being which is catastrophe, 
which is always the same ceaseless state 
of breaking, of falling, graveling down 

to ravine the hoard-waters that glide
there, that flay. The flowers, 
open and deliquescent, that bend. 
Grasses that move. 

POEM

I wanted 
a hat. 
Once, long ago, 
I had a hat. 

PLAYS INVERSE ANNOUNCEMENT OF FORTHCOMING WORKS

Here is an announcement of forthcoming works from Plays Inverse. 

Visit their website: 

http://www.playsinverse.com/catalog.html






Thank you for supporting the small, independent presses. 

Jon Cone 

In Oslo Outside a Cathedral A Drunk Pisses in Summer

Bach, Bach, Bach, J.S. -
Bach,

Bach,                J. S. -

Hearing Bach
played on an enormous pipe organ
is like being suspended 
inside
the lung of God.

Bach, Bach, J. S.- Bach,


J.
S.


B
A
C
H 

November

They shout, throw 
halos at your broken feet 

your children 
on  fire, as the still-new

century sloughs its 
metals

October

I am of two minds. No, one. No, two. Yes, two. Or three ...

I should be president dragging a mighty incoherence like this around all day --

I visit a toilet in despair.