January 1, 2015


Paco Jones is a poet, musician, photographer and filmmaker living with his wife and son in Seattle. He has been previously published by Alpha Beat Press, Coke Fish, and Currant St. Press.

Write Like Me

sometimes i wonder (i’m in my
              white t-shirt phase)

why i can’t write like i did

       it’s because i wanted to
kill him and i was
     it’s the pharmaceuticals, baby!
    the first dose
                      changes yr brain
 and i took so many doses
the words stopped altogether
 & when slowly they came back
          they were wrong
                       & slow & broken
and entirely in the wrong order
 i left the Russian Poems
- thick wondrous slabs of words -
 behind, Celan made
perfect sense - i wrote Polemic
               Slide (tight knots of bits broken glass) (“i can’t publish this because i can’t understand
                      and then nothing
nothing at all
         floating in the darkness
                                   of silence
i could only pretend
            and now eons
decades      years hence
                                    i still am
              put together again
all the king’s men
                         all the king’s men
     cannot bring
                       the man
        to the boy again

we built a wall in there
                you can look over
but you can never touch, never
             and never quite remember
 who was you
                 when you lived
                  hope in yr hand like
flowers for a girl named
 holding hands
                 through a wall
married to another
                          a woman
           on a mountain
      behind the wall
& that’s why
                   you can never
                                        write like
              me again
you wanted this
                       you asked for - built - brick by pill by pill
                                                  between you and you
and you would do it again
        to stop the pain
                             i would        yes
            i would
that’s why people leap off
bridges with rocks in their
pockets - speaking of Celan &
perhaps Virginia Woolf
the mad ones
                 all the mad ones
all the good ones are mad
the mad and the intolerable
      the broken - wait till
they’re dead
             then their genius is
           until then
 kill it, kill them
    kill the pain, the wrong
the unfitting, the
             in me in them
they kill us
               we kill us
         i killed me
 and that’s why
                             all the mad ones
                             all the mad ones
and that’s why -
                       i killed me
 like i was
                                  all the mad
       supposed to

~Paco Jones

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