Book Officially Released! 10 Reasons You Should Buy It

IT’S HERE!

You can buy my poetry collection for less than 8 bucks on the publisher’s website! If you’d like to purchase it directly from the publisher, head this way: https://wipfandstock.com/the-wrenching-of-the-hip-that…

If you’d rather purchase from Amazon, feel free to follow this link.

10 Reasons you should buy my book:

1.) You love books of poems that have a mix of light verse, fixed form, free verse, prose poems, ruminations on the tedium of everyday life, and spirituality.

2.) You are worried about the decline of physical books as a medium.

3.) You promised you would buy a book if I ever got it published. No take-backs.

4.) You vaguely knew me in high school and you want to see if there are any oblique references to you.

5.) You’re actually my mom, or directly related to me. You’re basically obligated, in this instance.

6.) You recently read a think piece that guilted you into supporting small-time artists, especially during COVID-19.

7.) You’re concerned you will run into me in person and I will ask if you bought it and it’ll get awkward.

8.) You think you can get away with running into me once and saying “I’ve been meaning to!” But after reading #7, you realized you’re likely to run into me twice, and on the second run-in, it really could get weird.

9.) Literally, pity. You keep imagining me clicking “refresh” and venting to my wife about how I expected SOMEONE would buy it.

10.) You like to support your friends’ endeavors, and you appreciate that I’ve never messaged you to “catch up,” only to sling Young Living, Herbalife, Primerica, etc. at you.

(I recognize that if you sell any of the above MLM products, you probably no longer want to buy my book. That’s okay. You’re absolved.)

In other news…

I’ve decided to break down and start an “Author Page” on Facebook and Amazon. This will help me to better send out new information related to my writing without inundating people on my personal page who might be less than interested. It would mean a great deal to me if you “liked” and “followed” my Facebook Author Page and my Amazon Author Page today!

New Book Coming Soon!

At the risk of sounding vain, I’d like to put in one more plug for my upcoming collection of poems entitled The Wrenching of the Hip that Precedes the Blessing from the publisher Wipf and Stock. I sent the book out to a few beta-readers, and here’s what they had to say:

In this collection, Daniel Jones is a master at word-play, in poems such as “Becoming Apparent” and “Scenes from the Hoosier Countryside,” and “Ars Poetica (in Sapphics).”  Then, there are the emotional gut punches, such as “Veering,” and “The Second Greatest Commandment.” More than that, this poet is clever as hell with a punchline to make you think in almost every poem. These poems are not work for the reader, they are a rich dessert to savor and roll around the tongue. Each work leaves a sense of satisfaction and the “Oh, yes!” that great poems conjure.

–Julia Gordon-Bramer, author of Fixed Stars Govern a Life: Decoding Sylvia Plath and the Decoding Sylvia Plath series.

The Wrenching of the Hip that Precedes the Blessing is both heartfelt and relatable as a poetry collection. Jones weaves together words that will inspire you while marveling at their clever combinations and metaphors. This deeply personal collection is one that will appeal to a wide spectrum of poetry enthusiasts. From the wordplay and imagery in “Scenes from the Hoosier Countryside” to the passion and aguish and “The Wolves Who Refuse to Lie Down with the Lamb,” there’s something for everyone in this collection.

-Tiffany Renee Harmon, Author of Suburban Secrets and Editor-in-Chief of Ephemeral Elegies (https://ephemeralelegies.com/)

The new collection will be out this Fall! Keep your eyes on this page for more updates.

Come Dirty (poem)

(by Daniel R. Jones)

“This is a holy moment,” dad said,
pouring my vodka down the kitchen sink.
“You need to know I’m proud.”

But my sixteen-year-old brain
toggled between godly sorrow
and utter shame.

In terms of salvation,
“come clean,” is a most
unfortunate misnomer.

We tend to come 
dirty, broken
and afraid.

80-proof Smirinoff
circling down
the drain

like some backwards 
Old Testament
drink offering.

A holy moment, indeed.

the wrenching of the HIp that Precedes the Blessing (poem)

(by Daniel R. Jones)

They all went black:
the fixed stars we use 
to navigate our broken lives. 

Now we’re cutting 
our way through the fog,
ambling away from Bethlehem.

Well-aware the cosmic ledger—
light and dark, joy and sorrow
is far from balanced, this side of Elysian fields.

Fearful of what it all means;
there’s a part of your soul that’s nocturnal;
rouses, comes awake when it’s dark.

On the same night
the physicists proved, mathematically
man has no soul,

the mystics proved, artistically
man does have a soul.
I inquired of God: which is true?

I was answered 
by a torrent of silence,
and the silence argued

if a thousand years is like a day,
and a day, a thousand years,
a generation of silence from God

is just a lull in the conversation. 
The silence pained me
like the wrenching of the hip 

that precedes the blessing.
and with each surpassing revelation, 
He became more mysterious.

Beyond the Balustrade (Poem)

[by Daniel R. Jones]

 (After John 8:2-11.)

NO FOREIGNER
IS TO GO BEYOND THE BALUSTRADE
AND THE PLAZA OF THE TEMPLE ZONE
WHOEVER IS CAUGHT DOING SO
WILL HAVE HIMSELF TO BLAME
FOR HIS DEATH
WHICH WILL FOLLOW.
-The Warning Inscription in the Jerusalem Temple

Darker, more substantive
against a backdrop of
pastel, Judean girls:
my mistress strode
all smoke and sparks
in the marketplace.

I gave the devil his due,
offered, even, some gratuity;
steeling myself against
the thought of her open
mouth kissing my
throat’s blood vessels open, 

As I wince through
Forgive me, Father,
for I have sinned,
still sin, in truth,
intend on
right on sinning.

Her husband’s not at home,
but he’s a good man.
Yeah, well, in Eden
Eve was enticed.
Desire isn’t always sprung
for lack of something.

Her body was a temple,
and she let me in.
There, beyond the balustrade
they found me.
Dragged her through the complex
while I fled on foot.

Some mornings I try to catch her
gaze in the city square
as she haggles the price
of a fish or purchases a basket;
her movements are lighter,
more fluid than they were before.

She left her life of sin,
the day she wasn’t stoned.
Where are your accusers?
Meanwhile, townspeople prattle
on about how I should’ve stood
beside her. It was a stroke of luck

when I fled with my life in my hands,
or so they say. But she
has faced the Arbitrator
and been absolved.
And I have yet
to face Him.

The Second Greatest Commandment

(by Daniel R. Jones)

He wasn’t bleeding by the side of the road
to Jericho, or ransacked
by a group of marauders

or bruised
or naked
or left for dead.

He just needed a ride home from work.

He didn’t bother asking.
He’d already asked a couple times this week.
His eyes did the asking:

“I know you’re a Samaritan,
but will you be good?”

But my last cup of coffee and my Aleve
were wearing off in tandem,
and my wife and son were seated, already,
around some quickly-cooling Stroganoff.

Father,
brother,
forgive me.

The Sheen in Dirty Things

(by Daniel R. Jones)

From a kitchen window, I saw it,
my sudsy hands soaking
in a sink:

Pearl white, a silky sheen of a thing,
the taut, intricate patterns glistened in the sun.

And just like the first recorded question of God,
it struck me.
Who told you spiderwebs were dirty?