good coffee and silence

 

A hard winter rain hides 

the moon tonight. The wind 

shakes my old house with a shudder. 

Still, it is lovely to watch the rain 

through the window, warm inside. 

The heart of winter. 

The heart of rain. 

james lee jobe

With no underrobes,

bare butt suddenly exposed--

a gust of spring wind

Buson, 1715-1783 CE

John Coltrane, Naima

Keep listening. Never become so self-important that you can't listen to other players. Live cleanly. Do right.

John Coltrane

Which One Is Genuine

I once knew a woman named Benedicta, who

infused everything with the ideal. When one

looked into her eyes one wanted nobility, glory,

beauty, all those qualities that make us love immortality.

But this exquisite woman was too beautiful to

live long; she died in fact shortly after I met her,

and it was I who buried her one day when spring

was waving his encensoir even through the

cemetery gates. It was I who buried her, well

enclosed in a coffin made of a wood scented and

eternal as the treasure boxes of India.

And while my eyes remained fixed on that spot

where my jewel lay entombed, I saw all at once a

tiny human being much like the dead woman,

doing a bizarre dance, violent and hysterical, on

the loose earth. She howled with laughter as she

spoke: "This is me! Benedicta, as she is! I'm

trash, everyone knows it! And the punishment

for your stupidity and your blind head is this:

You'll have to love what I am!"

I went into a rage and said, "No! No! No! No!"

And in order to give strength to my no, I

stomped the earth so fiercely with my foot that

my leg sank into the freshly turned earth up to

my knee, and like a wolf caught in a trap, I am

now tied, perhaps for the rest of my life, to the

grave of the ideal.

Charles Baudelaire

California’s Central Valley is a giant, 

twenty thousand square miles. 

Long ago there was a sea here. 

Today, looking up from this flat land, 

I saw an egret flying past. 

It was a lonely sight.  

 

james lee jobe

What can we really possess, after all? Our realization that there is actually nothing that can be held on to can become a powerful factor in cultivating our inner wealth of generosity, which is a wealth that can never be depleted.

Marcia Rose

On The Road To T'ien-t'ai

Wrapped, surrounded by ten thousand mountains, 

cut-off, no place to go--

Until you're here, there's no way to get here.

Once you're here, there's no way to go.

Yuan Mei, 1716-1798 CE

Sixty-seven years on, I find

that I most value good coffee

and silence.

And my dog.

And my wife, of course.

I meant to list her first,

I'm sure you understand.

 

james lee jobe 

Elmore James, It Hurts Me, Too

Elmore James was born in 1918 and died in 1963. He was inspired to play the blues by seeing, several times, the great Robert Johnson play live. And man, if that couldn't inspire you, what possibly could? 

Thanks for reading the poetry zendo today. If you like it, you can support it through the Buy Me A Coffee link below. 

Thanks, james