Jonathan Alford Poems

Widow's Mite

She is drowning evermore.
Black dresses rivet when the wind blows.
Drops are gliding down your cheekbones.
This corpse, it slumps its way to Hades.... more »

Dreams Are Sometimes Made Of Feathers

A black feather dances its way to wooden floors
I am buried in my sheets and unwilling to acknowledge you
Stubborn Daemon, you both bring and maculate dreams of her
Her face is lost somewhere between lucid and wake... more »

For A Jester

A man stumbles in from the heat of a winter.
A spirit to quell his own glistening like ocean-light
Spills from a bloody lower lip
In remembrance of a lover’s taste.... more »

Jonathan Alford Quotes

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