Word has reached us of the unexpected death on August 20 of our dear friend and faithful contributor, poet-scholar Elizabeth Jones, whose erudition, wit, kindness, and boundless love for poetry brought joy to all who knew her. We will write of her at length presently, but for now, a poem from her 1972 book Castings, in her memory:
Bare Truth
Too many leaves
a surplus of sunlight
make for
profuse complexities
of birdsong and shadow.
Let the trees be stripped
to eternity and the design
stand clear;
I always knew when I died
I would know all.
Was this what I wanted? --
These question marks etched
by a steel pen,
wrought-iron portals
swinging open
on cemeteries of snow?
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