Hettie Jones > Quotes

“are you breathing, are you lucky enough
to be breathing”
― Hettie Jones

“Anyone in pursuit of art is responding to a desire to make visible that which is not, to offer the unknown self to others.”
― Hettie Jones

“Weather


My folder of poems
labeled “weather” holds
no clues as to whether
or not there’ll be any

weather to count on, say,
a hard rain like “little nails," or
that deluge “plunging radiant”

now that we’ve plunged into war
and wars don’t stop like rain stops

like that last slow drizzle
onto the old tin bathroom vent

sweet hint of growth
in the soft wet drift north

fire or ice, fire or ice

are you breathing, are you lucky enough
to be breathing”
― Hettie Jones

“Refrain (by Jan Warren)

Pick up your clothes, make your bed, is that a basket of ironing stuffed into your closet? How can you find anything in there? Clean it out, you're not going to the park until it's done and I want you to take your sister with you, don't give me that look, just wait until your father comes home; I've never seen such a lazy kid, how did I ever get lucky enough to have you to deal with, you've got a chip on your shoulder; no, you can't spend the night, because I said so, straighten that bedspread; wake up, you'll be late for school, come right home after, I need you to go to the store and don't take forever, dinner has to be sometime tonight; set the table, make the salad, clean out the wastepaper basket, feed the dogs, sweep the floor, don't let the flies in, close that door, do you think money grows on trees, don't give me that look, just wait till your father gets home; who was that on the phone, why is he calling here? don't talk to strangers, who was that walking with you, you better not have them hanging around, because I said so, you're too young, he's a boy, that's different, because I said so, that skirt is too short, take off that makeup, you look like a hussy in those fishnet stockings, where did you get that, you'll have to take it back, don't give me that look, just wait till your father gets home; the store called me today--you've taken practically nude pictures, you better stop or I'll tell your father, you're getting too big for your britches young lady, nice girls don't do things like that, keep going and you'll see what happens...don't give me that look...”
― Hettie Jones, Aliens at the Border: the Writing Workshop, Bedford Hills Correctional Facility

“আমার কবিতার ফোলডার
লেবেল দেয়া “আবহাওয়া” তাতে
আবহাওয়া সম্পর্কে কোনো সূত্র নেই
কিংবা তাতে থাকবেও না

আবহাওয়া সম্পর্কে বলতে হলে, ধরো,
কঠিন বৃষ্টি যেমন “ছোটো পেরেক”, কিংবা
সেই বানভাসি “ঝাঁপদেয়া ঔজ্বল্য”

এখন যেহেতু আমরা যুদ্ধ করতে ঝাঁপিয়েছি
আর যুদ্ধ কখনও থামে না বৃষ্টি-ফোঁটার মতন

সেই আগের বারের ঝিরঝিরে বৃষ্টির মতন
পুরোনো টিনের স্নানঘরের ফোকরে

বেড়ে ওঠার মিষ্টি ইশারা
নরম ভিজে উত্তরে ভাসমান”
― Hettie Jones

“Refrain (by Jan Warren)

Pick up your clothes, make your bed, is that a basket of ironing stuffed into your closet? How can you find anything in there? Clean it out, you´re not going to the park until it's done and I want you to take your sister with you, don't give me that look, just wait until your father comes home; I've never seen such a lazy kid, how did I ever get lucky enough to have you to deal with, you've got a chip on your shoulder; no, you can´t spend the night, because I said so, straighten that bedspread; wake up, you´ll be late for school, come right home after, I need you to go to the store and don't take forever, dinner has to be sometime tonight; set the table, make the salad, clean out the wastepaper basket, feed the dogs, sweep the floor, don't let the flies in, close that door, do you think money grows on trees, don't give me that look, just wait till your father gets home; who was that on the phone, why is he calling here? don´t talk to strangers, who was that walking with you, you better not have them hanging around, because I said so, you're too young, he's a boy, that's different, because I said so, that skirt is too short, take off that makeup, you look like a hussy in those fishnet stockings, where did you get that, you'll have to take it back, don't give me that look, just wait till your father gets home; the store called me today--you've taken practically nude pictures, you better stop or I'll tell your father, you're getting too big for your britches young lady, nice girls don't do things like that, keep going and you'll see what happens... don't give me that look...”
― Hettie Jones, Aliens at the Border: the Writing Workshop, Bedford Hills Correctional Facility

“Our Skirt (by Kathy Boudin)

You were forty-five and I was fourteen
when you gave me the skirt.
¨It's from Paris!¨ you said
as if that would impress me
who at best had mixed feelings
about skirts.

But I was drawn by that summer cotton
with splashes of black and white--like paint
dabbed by an eager artist.
I borrowed your skirt
and it moved like waves
as I danced at a ninth grade party.
Wearing it date after date
including my first dinner with a college man.
I never was much for buying new clothes,
once I liked something it stayed with me for years.

I remember the day I tried
ironing your skirt,
so wide it seemed to go on and on
like a western sky.
Then I smelled the burning
and, crushed, saw that I had left a red-brown scorch
on that painting.

But you, Mother, you understood
because ironing was not your thing either.
And over the years your skirt became my skirt
until I left it and other parts of home with you.

Now you are eighty and I almost fifty.
We sit across from each other
in the prison visiting room.
Your soft gray-thin hair twirls into style.
I follow the lines on your face, paths lit by your eyes
until my gaze comes to rest
on the black and white
on the years
that our skirt has endured.”
― Hettie Jones, Aliens at the Border: the Writing Workshop, Bedford Hills Correctional Facility