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.

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