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