With Mr. Jones (collaborations—’11)

With Mr. Jones (collaborations—11) short poem

Photo by Bob Doran

(Line for line… tit for tat.)


My house is kind of small
—but bigger than my kitchen
And in my kitchen there’s a lamp
—that’s bigger than my fist
Please don’t touch the dog’s food bowl
—only I touch the food bowl
But really I know I shouldn’t
—only my dog touches the food bowl
What an asshole. We should have never bought that dog
—and we never should have mentioned that lamp, or that fist.
They were completely irrelevant to everything else.
—I’m going to have to scrap this one.


I started to write the poem
—then this happened.
And now this is happening
—to that happening.

I happen to be happening upon a
just like every other happening.

—Sometimes poems happen, often after
something else happens

—I just happened to happen upon a
happenstance happening
—then I started to write the poem.


It’s either spaghetti or meatballs
—that go with warm vodka
Either would probably fit
—in the freezer at the store.
Maybe they’d even fit
—in a cold and dim motel in Ohio.
But where would I find
—A fork?
Maybe I could find one
—In that motel.


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Vincent St. Clare

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V. St. Clare: Writer (blogger, rarely-published poet, short story writer, would-be novelist, and essayist), armchair philosopher, half-assed mystic, professional a-hole, and so forth.I'm a dislocated suburban cowboy looking for enlightenment in the age of the eschaton. I've been actively writing since ca. 2004-2006.I blog and maintain a personal site at 'The Grand Tangent'. {thegrandtangent.com}I also run a small, online magazine called 'The Drunken Llama'. {thedrunkenllama.com} I welcome submissions to the site. If you'd like to submit your poetry or other artistic works, please see {https://thedrunkenllama.com/about/}.
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