Hey, I hope you had a happy St. Patty's day. I did (see: uncertainty in previous post [see also: Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, because that shit's just wicked cool]).
The hellish finals week has got me all fucked up with sleep, and I'm back to indulging in my nocturnal proclivity. I hope to amend this soon, but without further ado, Amen.
gentleMen, Ladies, indefinitely Confused, I give you my 'POETre reADING reVIEW' (an assigned attendance and write-up of a local reading in which poetry was read [that really turned out to be a "scathing... review" of the worn-through postmodernist literary conventions {intentionally plural, intended as a pun}]) and my 'Æsthetic Statement?' (an assignmeant to reflect and elaborate up/on the "questions, processes, and impulses that underlie the principles or directions of your writing". [which because by the time I began to write it, I'd already written ≈ 9-10 pages of text for about 8-10 hours, it did not as I would wish very consciously, cautiously do this, but together with the accompanying document, may have very well done a satisfactory job of]), both of which were assignments for my now over Poetry class.
Enjoy; fill in the blanks; fulfill your life and yourself

Howdy, y'all! Feliz dia de los remembering the Alamo.
As noted in the post previous, I have been writing more. And my laptop was in the Philippines I believe getting repaired. But now it is back, on my lap, going to work and getting filled with my heady ejaculations--of words, you pervert.
The new wordks you can find, per the uje (/as usual), on the following tab: Walker Jones' Other Works. I don't have everything quite done yet, but I have all I'm going to do tonight and will finish the rest as they come. I just can't help myself with the innuendo...
which tells me I should take a break. Stop. Drop. Roll. Fire. Smoke. Flash. Dance. Voila: a diddy:
[the following was a post on the Seattle newspaper's online personal forum
listen: it was free and sometimes I get lonely, don't we all. so I had fun with it, since I'm so much younger than everyone else, and composed, well, you can read
{N.B. i do believe there will be more of these musicalike things to come.}]

Hey there good evening how ya doing ladies?
I guess you might be on here looking to make some babies
Or just some love, or maybe just to find some
One that's true and not "too good to be"come
"Ya boi"—toy/or/friend—no, wait: what you really want's a man
To make you feel full inside like only he can
And so you scan through strangers online impers
Onals and dime a dozens, your lovelife change is worse
Than it was before you even logged on
And flipped through "ad"s like in a fashion catalogue
On every page, a different mannequin to see
But now you've turned up every last stone and come to me
My stone is rolling, gathering steam up and no moss
I got you scrolling, reading this right? at a loss
Of what to make of
This must be fake, well
Miss you're wide awake, I'll
Pinch you for the sake of proving
I'm real, not complex or even imaginary
I'm oddly radical, makin more waves than a ferry
Or Rick Perry, though I'm sweet as acai berry
In a smoothie, smoother than a Ben & Jerry
Rich as dairy, or extra virgin olive oil
Hot as water heatin up to a rolling boil
And gettin hotta, 'nough to make you recoil
But I play it cool, don't want any turmoil
Just some fun with someone—hey just like you
So listen closely as I tell you what to do:
Just click the button on the left hand side of the screen
And leave a message, don't you worry there's no beep
We can get to talkin, maybe over some coffee beans
About your dog or your life's hopes & dreams
They could come true you
May never know though
Unless you try to
Give a new guy a go
Yo!

Hey people, I hope you're doing beautifully. I have been--
writing quite a bit more than I really ever have before,
for the past couple months, esp. the last couple weeks.
However, in the wake of this creative outburst, I've been sleeping on the polishing that goes into what comes out--a bit too much basking in the sunlight, if you will (I did). Also my computer and internet availability have been trying (and failing).
But, without further ado, I bring to you three new works on the 'Other Works' tab,
and this post--written at a Seattle Public Library computer as time is quickly expiring, but the poetic meat of which was written by candlelight on my back porch in San Antonio the early morning of New Years Evening (yes it has been a while indeed):

~I called; you stalled,
                                       then told me to come over--
for not too long—I played some songs by a band you didn't know,
and you with cards and some glass shards to shine a shadow show.
You made some tea for us and me as we filled your room with smoke
but I spilled mine. You couldn't divine the meaning of the tarot.
The sound was warped; the light, distort from finicky flames still burning
your incense. Insentience almost overshadowed my yearning
to hold you just in short, -in lust, -or maybe as I once did
when we were young. The feeling stung, but I('m) no longer (a) kid
myself—I'm grown; you I can't own,
                                                                  nor could you be my lover.~
Each time I see you with me it makes me wonder why
when you I leave I have to grieve so much I want to cry.
Maybe I miss whom I first kissed, that passionate primal affection;
but I know now that simply thou art that—emotive ‘n tangible defection.
And so I must stake hope and trust in that which really is,
thus extinguish fie’ry anguish that you won't be my mrs.