spewn from the teeming well
of passion’s folly and animal lust
first we swim then we crawl then
upon our feet we are force marched
through a landscape of horrific
beauty and beguiling ugliness
to a certain end
through a bitter country full
of sweetness under sentence
of the dark we go full of rising
terror indifference and indignation
at the shortness and uncertainty
that brings us soon or late
to the grave
nothing lasts nothing assuages
the terrible terror of three score ten
save that in the malignant dark
without hope without reward
we raise our voice in poetry
telling tales and making rhymes
that for a time keeps the night at bay
Poetry. Various urgent, lively, and sometimes haunting poems appear here alongside stark black and white photos of Jones' homeless subjects. Jones takes on the plight of the homeless in different voices, echoing the thoughts of people on the streets,
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