far away this father goes
the sun dims in the sky
they abide, but none among them knows
the meaning or the reason why
left behind in tattered regard
obscured by cloud and lingering doubt
the remains of a family burnt and charred
the way was clear, but none got out
so now i roam and wander hollow
inside this prison cell
approach me not and do not follow
stay clear of this living hell
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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love the mood in this one, Brian.
masterfully crafted.
Erin
:)