Rodney Jones

Rodney Jones teaches in the Warren Wilson Low Residency MFA Program and is a member of the Fellowship of Southern Writers. His honors include the National Book Critics Circle Award, the Kingsley Tufts Award, and the Harper Lee Award. His new book, Village Prodigies, which combines techniques of fiction and poetry, will be published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt in the spring of 2017.

July/Aug 2020

I Live I Live I Live

By Rodney Jones

The night after the last infusion I dream of stealing an airplane, a single-engine, yellow Piper Cub, and I should tell you right now before I forget, it is a […]

July/Aug 2020

In Never Land

By Rodney Jones

The mine heals. The black widow crawls away From the sleeve of my father’s coveralls. The beaten woman retrieves her maiden name. Permission of the deepest sort — freedom From tasks, from […]

July/Aug 2016

Homecoming

By Rodney Jones

2003, 1950 One place is as good as another to be born and return after years, like Odysseus to Ithaka or mildew to a rotting plank. How Sunday it all […]

Summer 2011

The Previous Tenants

By Rodney Jones

1 The couple who built our house had great plansfor this lot where they would live out their days:he in dedicated husbandry, priming a gardenwith sludge from the sewage plant, […]

Summer 2011

The Art of Heaven

By Rodney Jones

In the middle of my life I came to a dark wood, the smell of barbecue, kids running in the yards. Not deep depression. The nice Hell of suburbs. Speed […]

Fall 2005

Olympiad

By Rodney Jones

Between time and place came this vivid consciousness of things unalterable that some, the lucky or talented, might make out of the materials at hand in such a way that […]

Fall 2005

The Attitude

By Rodney Jones

We who have towed the burden share a kinship we ditchdiggers and box toters we hammerers and assemblers no matter if we work now as architects or engineers if we […]

Spring 1998

Not See Again

By Rodney Jones

Long I partied hearty with Hogdoo and weird Harold, One of the hippies waiting the orbit of the strobing joint, Talking sidemen on the liner notes of albums And exotic […]

Summer 1989

Meditation at Home

By Rodney Jones

A sampler of country in the margin between subdivisions–Dog-wallows in sedge where we walked a chapel silence That day a doe and two fawns leapt up and bolted south Toward […]

Summer 1989

Meeting Bobby

By Rodney Jones

Not one for worship, I waited anyway In the corridor under the auditorium And watched him approaching from a far door, Younger and slighter than in photographs, And dwindling then […]

Summer 1989

Serious Partying

By Rodney Jones

The little hits of psychopharmaceutical bliss the street kids still call purple microdots were delivered in plain Ziploc sandwich bags and went three hits for seven dollars. One would bring […]

Summer 1989

A Blasphemy

By Rodney Jones

A girl attacked me once with a number 2 Eagle pencil for a whiny lisping impression of a radio preacher she must have loved more than sophistication or peace, for […]

Summer 1989

Dangers

By Rodney Jones

From the first, I was too reluctant, achieving by dribs and drabs, Happy to linger in shallows while others jack-knifed from cliffs,   wrong To exact perfection from a sad piece […]