Quincy Scott Jones is a Black American poet and the author of How to Kill Yourself Instead of Your Children (C&R Press, 2021). A Cave Canem Fellow, Jones is a professor and lives in New York City.
The icicles wreathing On trees in festoon Swing, swayed to our breathing: They’re made of the moon. She’s a pale, waxen taper; And these seem to drip Transparent as paper From the flame of her tip.
Red slippers in a shop-window; and outside in the street, flaws of gray, windy sleet! Behind the polished glass the slippers hang in long threads of red, festooning from the ceiling like stalactites ...
Bob: Can I be your lazy eye, your wander- lust, your grave without a headstone, your bleeding gums, your buck teeth and your walk bowlegged at the knee? Can I be your fortune hunter, your glimpse of ...
White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: ...
“That’s a smart pair of pumps you’re beading there. Who are they for?” “You mean?—oh, for some miss. I can’t keep track of other people’s daughters. Lord, if I were to dream of everyone “Two weeks ...
to repeat it. For a while—no, for a long while—it was like a prayer, rising to the skies, morning after morning, like a siren that wouldn’t quiet. And then I remembered other things: the way I walk ...
William Shakespeare, regarded as the foremost dramatist of his time, wrote more than thirty plays and more than one hundred sonnets, all written in the form of three quatrains and a couplet that is ...
Jealousy. Whispered weather reports. The lure of the land so strong it prompts gossip: we chatter like small birds at the edge of the ocean gray, foaming. Now sand under sand hides the buried world, ...