I Hold the Stone and the Stone Holds Me

I don't read a lot of poetry, though I love hearing poetry read to me. I have a hard time finding the beat, the rise and fall of the tones, the pauses. I'm much better at listening to it. It helps when you know the person who wrote the poetry. In your head you can hear their voice, where they would place the pauses, and it helps the words hold their shape in the air.

That is how it was with this collection by Joel M. Jones. Joel comes into the bookshop often. He is one of those fantastic customers who makes a point of knowing your name, and having fantastic conversations about books, and meaning the question when he asks how your day is going.

This collection of poetry covers a vast range of subject matter, from the desert and a sense of belonging in the landscape of the south west, to academia and the strange disjoint between the hopes and dreams of teachers and students and the bureaucracy that finds its home in the system, to his birth and his fathers death. He talks about all of these things elegantly and poignantly.

I really liked this collection, though it seems weird reviewing poetry. It seems so personal, it feels much like having an opinion on the tragedy of a friend, or the joy of a sister. While the writing style can be separated from the events depicted, they are intertwined, and shouldn't be divided.