the fish with a door on his back

 

                The street is lit with the beam of years, the swallow and crush of living, and the kindest thoughts of solace. We are the cherubs in an ancient painting, we are the stone gargoyles that protect the stone grayness of the buildings. Moonlight to dress the city for bed. Moonlight to court and seduce those who need to be courted, those who lack seduction. The old clock in the tower strikes midnight and the gates to the next world open; dreams pour into this world and souls pour into the next one. Are you coming, my friend? This is the hour for which you have waited so very long. 

james lee jobe 

On Exiting Universitätsspital Zürich, New Year’s Eve 2015, a poem by Charif Shanahan 

The Way It Is

Faint shadow, a house, and traces of rain. 
In the courtyard depths, the gate's still closed
past noon. That lazy, I gaze at moss until
its azure-green comes seeping into my robes.

Wang Wei, 701-761 CE

Freddie King - I'm Tore Down 

That the earth might go on,
that the rain might go on,
that the sun might shine on,
that the forests might still grow;
as these things continue,
so will life continue.
This is my prayer.

james lee jobe 

                Last night I dreamed of a  big fish that had a sort-of door on his back. I reached into the water and opened the door, and inside was more water and more fish, tiny ones, swimming around. The large fish was patient, and let me do this. This is not a prose poem, but an actual dream. 

james lee jobe 

Click here to visit THE SAME OLD ZEN by Sensei Alex Kakuyo

                Hello. James Lee here. If you enjoy this blog, and I hope that you do, please consider making a donation through the BUY ME A COFFEE button below. It's done safely online, and just takes a moment. I could use the supplement since my mobility issues no longer allow me to work. 

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a 1956 Chevy Bel Air

I love these old hands of mine 

like I love a smooth running engine – 

perhaps a 1956 Chevy Bel Air 

with a big block straight six 

and a three-on-the-column shifter. 

Well maintained, fresh plugs and points. 

The oil changed every two thousand miles. 

These old hands run just fine. 

james lee jobe

Track

2 A.M. : moonlight. The train has stopped

out in a field. Far-off sparks of light from a town,

flickering coldly on the horizon.

As when a man goes so deep into his dream

he will never remember that he was there

when he returns again to his room.

Or when a person goes so deep into a sickness

that all his days become some flickering sparks,

a swarm, feeble and cold on the horizon.

The train is entirely motionless.

2 o'clock: strong moonlight, few stars.

Tomas Tranströmer, 1921-2013 CE

An egret feeding in the marsh is a lovely site, 

like seeing a child at play 

or hearing people laugh together – 

it’s a gentle, warm hug for your heart. 

james lee jobe

I am not I. I am this one walking beside me whom I do not see, whom at times I manage to visit, and whom at other times I forget; the one who remains silent while I talk, the one who forgives, sweet, when I hate, the one who takes a walk when I am indoors, the one who will remain standing when I die.

Juan Ramón Jiménez

Trombone Shorty & Orleans Avenue
St. James Infirmary 

At Lumen-Empty Monastery, Visiting the Hermitage of Master Jung,

My Departed Friend

 

The blue-lotus roof standing beside a pond,

White-Horse Creek tumbling through forests,

 

and my old friend some strange thing now.

A lingering visitor, alone and grief-stricken

 

after graveside rites among pines, I return,

looking for your sitting-mat spread on rock.

 

Bamboo that seems always my own thoughts:

it keeps fluttering here at your thatch hut.

Meng Hao-jan, 689-740 CE

Moment after moment everything comes out of nothingness.

This is the true joy of life.

Shunryu Suzuki

Two doves and several starlings are out in the rain,

eating the extra birdseed that I scatter on the patio.

My own bird, the conure Pico, doesn’t mind at all,

and they must be hungry to be out pecking

in the cold winter rain. I pray for all sentient beings. 

james lee jobe

It's a terrible waste to be happy and not notice it.

Kurt Vonnegut

1956 Chevrolet Bel Air

Hello. James Lee here. If you enjoy this blog, and I hope that you do, please consider making a donation through the BUY ME A COFFEE button below. It's done safely online, and just takes a moment. I could use the supplement since my mobility issues no longer allow me to work. 

Thanks! -jlj

hoarding silence

 

This rickety old boat drifts on a wide and slow river, 

a river that bends into the blue sky. 

The boat floats past the village on the far bank, 

with the people and the little marketplace. 

Time is nothing. The boat drifts on, 

past the evergreen trees of the pine woods 

and on into the white and fluffy clouds. 

james lee jobe

Cows in the Evening, a poem by Nikki Wallschlaeger

People who own the world outright for profit will have to be stopped; by influence, by power, by us. 

Wendell Berry

Everyone's journey 

through this world is the same, 

so I won't complain.

Here on the plains of Nasu, 

I place my trust in the dew. 

 Sōgi, 1421-1502 CE

I hoard silence to use in the passing years. 

I love the emptiness of this quiet room, 

and I love my grief for its power. 

In the shadows and in the dark corners of night 

I see the face of my dead son. 

His beautiful face. 

Just that. 

james lee jobe

Willie Dixon, Sittin' And Cryin' The Blues

When the whole world is silent, even one voice becomes powerful. 

Malala Yousafzai

To each thing, its own 

true deepest inner nature: 

water does not think 

of itself as consort 

of the bright moonlight it hosts .

 Sōgi, 1421-1502 CE

The sunrise and the sunset don’t need us, 

a fact that eludes most people. 

Night comes and goes with or without us. 

Life is short, and don’t kid yourself; 

this life is all there is. 

So take it all in; the rain, the stars, the moon. 

The wind in the trees of the graveyard. 

james lee jobe

Muddy Waters & Little Walter, Walkin' On 

I’ve woven a parachute out of everything broken.

William Stafford

Call it loneliness,

that deep, beautiful color

no one can describe:

over these dark mountains,

the gathering autumn dusk. 

The Priest Jakuren, 1139-1202 CE

The secrets of living welcome us like bees, like honey. Will  tomorrow come? And if it does, will it come for us?

james lee jobe 

We see vulnerability as weakness, whereas in actual fact, it is the source of the possibility of care. 

Malcolm Martin

Hello. James Lee here. If you enjoy this blog, and I hope that you do, please consider making a donation through the BUY ME A COFFEE button below. It's done safely online, and just takes a moment. I could use the supplement since my mobility issues no longer allow me to work. 

Thanks! -jlj

a city of trees

 

There was an old iron bridge across the river, in the bottom land, hidden from the houses by many trees. We would meet there. Willows and Cottonwoods kept watch for us. The river wound toward the sea like a fat brown snake. We spun ourselves into a wheel of flesh, far from the eyes of judgement. Our skin was shiny with sweat. Late into the night we would spin and spin. 

james lee jobe 

for my dead & loved ones, a poem by Ntozake Shange

Before we can be free, we need to be able to imagine ourselves free.

Koshin Paley Ellison

This town, this place where I live, 

is a town of trees, a city of trees. 

Living here with me are valley oaks 

and blue oaks, Oregon ash and gray pine, 

cottonwoods and willows and mulberry. 

And squirrels, magpies, owls and raccoons. 

Come on. A lovely day is upon us.

james lee jobe

To Mycorrhizae Under Our Mother’s Garden,
a poem by Brenda Hillman

Dexter Gordon, Doin' Alright 

In Western Civilization, our elders are books. 

Gary Snyder 

Where is the dark seed 

that grows the forget-you plant? 

Searching, now I see 

it grows in the frozen heart 

of one who has murdered love. 

The Monk Sosei, 844-910 CE

Willing myself to become invisible, I walk right out of the prison.

But friend, are you truly free if not even one person can see you? 

james lee jobe

Via Negativa Daily Digest, a poem by Luisa A. Igloria

Poetic Justice? I stand 

alone with my thoughts 

as the crickets cry, 

wild pink mountin blossoms 

swirling in gathering dusk. 

The Monk Sosei, 844-910 CE  

Dexter Gordon, Ladybird 

Hello. James Lee here. If you enjoy this blog, and I hope that you do, please consider making a donation through the BUY ME A COFFEE button below. It's done safely online, and just takes a moment. I could use the supplement since my mobility issues no longer allow me to work. Thanks! -jlj

Nothing. Emptiness. Peace.

The winds
Passing up this valley
Come from the ocean
Far away.
The blow of nature
Across the flat earth.
Twilight as I write this,
And through the window
I can see the pine tree tops
Waving hello to me again.

James Lee Jobe 

At a way station, 

returning from Drizzly Road 

to Always Dry Road:

if it should rain, it will rain; 

if the wind should blow, it blows. 

Ikkyū Sōjun, 1394–1481 CE

Just give up.
The only thing that can save you
Is to not be saved at all.
Nothing can save you.
Nothing will save you.
There is no truly holy book
Or greater being or Heaven.
There is no Hell,
No lesson other than to
Accept the great nothing.
Can you figure out my poem?
Salvation is an illusion
Dreamed up in your mind.
Sit down and shut up
For a couple of hours a day.
One hour in the morning,
And another hour at night.
Nothing. Emptiness. Peace.

James Lee Jobe 

            You are not only responsible for what you say, but also for what you do not say. 

Martin Luther, 1483-1546 CE

Dream: The Night of December 23rd ,
a poem by Michael McClure

To Be a Good Buddhist Is Ensnarement,
a poem by Jenny Xie

The world doesn’t think about me.

And I prefer it that way.

If anyone needs me, I am not hard to find;

Just go into the village and look.

Look in the place of lost moments

And forgotten sounds,

And if, upon finding me,

You find a pile of torn-up papers,

Just glue me back together again

And pretend that I am whole.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

I know these things quite well,

Although it is quite easy for me

To forget this nonsense.

I am not important,

And the world is not important,

In fact, I fell asleep twice

While writing this down. 

James Lee Jobe

Essentially, 

all previous lives and selves 

are gone from nature-- 

without destination, 

without place, without value. 

Ikkyū Sōjun, 1394–1481

            A fool sees himself as another, but a wise man sees others as himself.

Dōgen, 1200-1253 CE

            I have realized that the past and future are real illusions, that they exist in the present, which is what there is and all there is.

Alan Watts, 1915-1973 

Born in Chicago-Paul Butterfield Blues Band

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Thanks. 

-jlj

Sunshine and rain and earth.

I can speak so sweetly 

    that I spit honey; 

it’s in my eyes 

    that the poison lies. 

-James Lee Jobe

Dave Brubeck Quartet, Take Five 

Evening Prayer, a poem by Vandana Khanna

            The true understanding is that the mind includes everything; when you think something comes from outside it means only that something appears in your mind.

-Shunryu Suzuki Roshi

            The classical antidote for fear in Buddhist teachings is metta, or lovingkindness. With lovingkindness, we instill a sense of kindness, care, and connection into our way of being that is profound in terms of shifting the energy of fear both within us and around us. 

-Sebene Selassie

Dar (Gift), a poem by Czesław Miłosz

The mountains just stand there 

and take it, the endless changes 

that come. And eventually changes 

wear the mountains down, 

still they stand there and take it. 

So it goes, such is time, 

and such is strength. 

-James Lee Jobe

Owl, a poem by Anne Haven McDonnell

            May our deepest held values shape the work that we do. May we create art that reflects the best of our character, and may we celebrate all that is good.

-Unknown 

            For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream. 

Vincent van Gogh

The crop is in.

Pick an ear of corn and open it.

Inside is everything of the world

And of life and happiness.

Sunshine and rain and earth.

Honest sweat from honest work.

Faith that the work will hold us

On into the Fall and the Winter.

Good solid nourishing food

For the family or the customers.

And if all goes well, some profit,

A little income. And that’s a lot

To ask from a single ear of corn.

-James Lee Jobe 

Retirement, a poem by Monica Sok

            Your life is unique. Follow your own path and leave the naysayers behind. Your life, your karma, your choices.

-James Lee Jobe 

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