Douglas Jones

From Posts


“How do you know the stamps, with which you frank your
humane minds are real? Sorry to tell you this, but it’s about
the posts you read or write, often in reference to your dog
+ the patrician marks of conscience he brings to your feet.
By all means project your thoughts on nature onto coils of
text that have nothing to do with you – but do you truly
believe these soliloquys, notes to our orders?”


“The expression of the strange will, ere long, attract your
grace. In deference, freedom, a boat in Yarmouth harbour
is to be objectified just the same as all the stout babies of
the earth sweeping o’er their mother’s knee agents drawn
to the world’s surface in forms where the land can be
expressed and cured. This is the nature that catches the
eye. A dog crew of excitable, battling holy men”


“I moved my stock, hogshead full of dogs, to a fine new
town. So they were bored – but Tied up in my authenticity I
must confess I neglected their small woofs. Under each
white street they were kept down. quiet – their comic faces
coming irregular, more more concerned with my
confidence. What’d they really contain? In the end I sold
them on – but then I doubted what heavens they might


“It was all pretend + dressing up, none of these worlds were
real. It’s a dry light, so turns as a soldier in a nodding cap,
dog at feet (in regimental coat, tails) coronet, boon – were
play, regulated to the actuality of a figure becoming slowly
true, + standing up. Ever so good men, deep in their own
head, indulge in antics of philosophy or compassion –
handing over all bodies, dependent on their sport”


“There’s a Bus in the street. You can observe it all you want
+ then it’ll have to go. Sometimes. Dream to enter onto a
sullen – city seen in the road at a point round dawn, the
workers, police, foretopmen – all acknowledged in that
bus, collaborating in a shared sense of the man; who made
me like the others – lettered secret. But I could not detail
the vehicle, or determine his investment in the truth”



Says Douglas Jones:

“I’ve been writing and publishing for around 20 years. Published here and there mostly with Veer. I work as a GP in Yarmouth, and the heavily disguised lives of my patients fill my work.”