Goddess of the Pedernales

Kathryn Jones

June 11, 2023



boulders crashed into the chasm

long ago when no one heard the echo

splash (splash)

rock chiseled smooth and white

round like the marble breasts

on the statue that fell off the edge

no one heard her voiceless scream


she lies now in the river

face to the sky, silent and still

as water rushes

over her terraced bones

wind and rain are her lovers

creating, destroying

caressing, eroding


stone pounded to sand

she is not one rock but many

married to green water

staring up at sun, moon, and stars

spinning fire, ice, and illusion

she gathers the days and nights

holding time in her outstretched hand

Kathryn Jones is a journalist, essayist, author, and poet. Her work has appeared in The New York Times, Texas Monthly, and in the anthologies A Uniquely American Epic: Intimacy and Action, Tenderness and Action in Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch (University Press of Kentucky, 2019) and Pickers and Poets: The Ruthlessly Poetic Singer-Songwriters of Texas. Her poetry has been published on tejacovido.com, in the Langdon Review of the Arts in Texas, and Odes and Elegies: Eco-Poetry from the Texas Gulf Coast. She was inducted into the Texas Institute of Letters in 2016.

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The Man Who Loved the Bayou

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Walking the Paluxy River in Drought