Poetry by individual poets

Art in her roomShe's the only portrait, I caught at first glanceHer journal states, that there is more to seeMy eyes.

'The sky belongs to everybody and everybody belongs to the sky.

'My mother was an oak treemy dad a garage mechanicMy father was a field of wheatmy mother the Prime MinisterMy mother was an innkeeperand my father a lonely cactus.

The wild secrets of boyhood is where Lloyd Jones sets off in his first book of poetry; intoxicated with images, and invoking dream spaces where language is forever in play.