the poetry zendo: February 2023

Tuesday, February 28, 2023

why we created basketball

Friend, I love this river.
Slender and slight,
A drink for the parched land,
A drink for us all.
From the mountains to the delta,
The river pulled by gravity and need.
See? Here in the bottom lands,
Even the heron wades in to bathe
And to look for a bite to eat.
Slender and slight,
Hands to heaven,
Thanks and praise.

james lee jobe

JOHN HIATT, Crossing Muddy Water

When the mind recognizes itself, there is no thing to see there. It’s just wide open.

Tsoknyi Rinpoche

they did it

nuclear apocalypse

everything everywhere destroyed

except for the television commercials

somehow they kept on playing

forever

james lee jobe

There is no such thing as paranoia. Your worst fears can come true at any moment.

Hunter S. Thompson

You can help support this blog through the Buy Me A Coffee link at the bottom of this page. If I were alive, I would do it.

James Garfield

I Was Sleeping Where the Black Oaks Move, a poem by Louise Erdich

It is possible to feel that one has no faults. Why? Because after discovering that one’s ideas and behaviors are imperfect, if one always immediately corrects them, this is maintaining a state of faultlessness.

Master Sheng-Yen

The creek always flows in one direction,
always going the same way. And the sun
rises in the east and sets in the west;
you can count on it. Everyday.
Consistency, it’s dependable, but dull.
That’s why we created basketball.

james lee jobe

Vincent van Gogh, a selfie

Nothing outside yourself can cause any trouble. You yourself make the waves in your mind. If you leave your mind as it is, it will become calm. This mind is called big mind.

Shunryu Suzuki

I dreamed I was in a house in England, where one corner of one small room was in France. This room had a table where wealthy French people met and ate, and one little door that let out into France. In the English part of the house, no one liked me, for I was Welsh. They weren't mean, just cold and standoffish. Perhaps the French would like me, they kept saying. So I went into the French room, and they did like me! They loved me! They gave me ancient books written in script that seemed flowing and lovely. There was laughter, fine dining and music, and when it was time to go, they led me to the small doorway into France, not back to England. I walked into a rolling, sunny countryside of grapes. Suddenly, I could sing in French.

james lee jobe

Indeterminacy, a poem by Charif Shanahan

Do your little bit of good where you are; it's those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.

Desmond Tutu

I'M WITH HER, Send My Love (To Your New Lover)

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jlj

Monday, February 27, 2023

Arm me with compassion & empathy.

In my dream I have somehow become a fast horse. And in this dream I gallop, trot, and prance. Yes, that's right. Actual prancing. It feels good to be a fast horse. In another dream I was a moose, and in still another I was a dog. There may not be an exact explanation, but there is this - it always feels pretty good. Excellent. In this dream I am a fast horse, moving swiftly across a grassy prairie. The bright sunshine is warm and fine on my back, and when I awake I see the saddle and bridle waiting silently beside my bed.

***

If the world troubles you, change it. If your life isn't working, change it. You are not a rock.

***

A silver girl slowly bathing in silver water.

Silver moonlight.

A love that is silver, a silver heart,

My cold, empty, silver soul.

Her beautiful, ripe flesh

Kissed by my cold, silver lips.

***

Arm me with books & knowledge.

Arm me with compassion & empathy.

***

Whispers and shadow.

The cold scurry of ghosts.

A thousand empty midnights,

A thousand dawns

That couldn't come soon enough.

No solace for the losses.

No balm for the invisible wounds.

Time is a bitch.

Moments that move slowly,

Slowed by the weight of ghosts.

The weight of whispers and shadow.

Whispers and shadow.

***

If just one person is "less than" ---for any reason--- then equality does not even exist. There is no such thing as partial equality.

***

The day came when all of the Republicans had insomnia,

every last one of them. They stayed awake all the time,

telling lies and looking for new ways to hurt the people in need

without messing up the Stock Exchange.

Of course their hearts and minds rotted away,

but there really wasn’t much there to begin with.

***

Everyone having equal rights does not mean fewer rights for you. It isn't like eating chicken.

by james lee jobe

jlj

Sunday, February 26, 2023

the gift of mercy

In an age of anger and rage,

I am asking for your mercy.

Those who hate, forgive them.

Those who legislate intolerance,

forgive them as well.

We do this for our own sake.

Anything less and we risk

becoming that which we would oppose,

and losing that which we could be.

Mercy is a wonderful gift,

and when you give it to someone

you also give it to yourself.

So give, and give again.

And yet again.

james lee jobe

The effort isn’t in trying to stop the mind but in paying attention in a receptive way to what’s actually happening.

Mark Van Buren

Sarah Jarosz, TELL ME TRUE

Do not try to become anything.

Do not make yourself into anything.

Do not be a meditator.

Do not become enlightened.

When you sit, let it be.

When you walk, let it be.

Grasp at nothing.

Resist nothing.

Ajahn Chah

From "Tao & Zen"

I am sleeping in a bed made of magic, and I begin to dream. In the dream I am trying to put together a crew to rob a bank. I am looking for certain people, very special criminals, as I believe I can do this robbery without weapons or even the threat of violence. “I need people who can work with love,” I keep saying, “I need love criminals.” Then the dream changes, becoming dark and frightening, and I am unable to speak. I know a rather heavy secret that some people will need to know to stay alive. I want to write out this secret, but there is nothing to write with. Acting out the answer has failed, and now, one by one, these people are dying. In the end I am surrounded by piles of bodies, and I am weeping. Eventually I struggle to my feet and I start trying to find my way out. Night. The magic bed. Oh, how complex this thing called living is, even in sleep.

james lee jobe

(previously in The Original VanGoghs Ear Anthology)

Conservatives want live babies so they can train them to be dead soldiers.

George Carlin

My friend,

what have we been given?

and what do we deserve?

Time is our equalizer;

what we earn matches only

what we have given,

and we what deserve

is the ability and strength

to make our own choices,

nothing more.

james lee jobe

This place is my place, where I belong. I have dug in, planted my roots here. Raised a family here, lost a son. Buried some friends, too. Right here. Whatever is coming the rest of the way through, I'll face it right here.

james lee jobe

jlj

Saturday, February 25, 2023

morning - time to milk the goats

It was morning again.

It was morning again, and I woke up still alive, so I waded into a pot of coffee that tasted of Ophelia’s madness.

It was morning again, and I had absolutely no control over that. Again.

My feet had begun to develop personalities of their own, and they registered to vote with a different party than me, but what can I do about it? I have to walk.

My feet, when brought close to my face, smelled slightly like fish, a dumpster fire, and Robert Downey Jr after a drug binge in a Palm Springs motel. No one wants that.

It was morning again, and my sins had a large population, indeed, my sins now had their own zip code, their own telephone exchange, their own internet domain. My sins were taught in those parochial schools that still teach Latin. Latin had become their second tongue.

It was morning again, and when I looked into the mirror above the sink I saw my father's face looking back at me. After splashing this face with cold water I saw my mother's face. There was no escape from that particular hell.

My hands might betray me and do violence. I don't condone this, but I also don't control it. I am afraid of my own hands. You should be, too.

My hands love to stroke a woman as if she were velvet or mink, my hands are liars in their own right.

Coffee. The madness of Ophelia. My hands, feet, and sins. My face in the mirror. Violence, followed by a woman to caress.

It was morning again, and I was doubting my own veracity.

It was morning again, and I knew that my poor version of the truth was exposed.

It was morning again, and I slowly opened the straight razor.

It was morning again, so I forgave myself yet again. And shaved.

james lee jobe

It’s not that we are always going to have the capacity to engage in tremendous acts of generosity and kindness. It’s that we’re open and available to realizing that things are different than they seem.

Mindy Newman

The Allman Brothers Band, ONE WAY OUT

It’s goat milking time.

Cast a shadow across the sundial and darken it,

pretend that sundown has come.

Gather the goats and bring them to the barn

for the evening milking.

But we have no barn,

and we have no goats,

and the sun is blistering hot at noon.

If there is a shadow, it is in me

and not across the sun dial.

So there is no goat milk,

but there is still a lot of this day yet to live,

and that's something.

james lee jobe

October Sonnet, a poem by Adrian Matejka

If you don't stick to your values when they're being tested, they're not values: they're hobbies.

Jon Stewart

jlj

Thursday, February 23, 2023

a world full of dirt

Everyone’s brain is plugged and there are no more plumbers.

All of our souls are in danger of going to hell, 
only there are no such things as souls or hell.

Have you ever considered that perhaps dirt rules the world? 
There is a lot of it.

You might hear someone say that time is passing quickly or slowly, 
but there is no such thing as time, only the nonsense in our minds.

Turn off your television, turn off your computer and your phone. 
Yes, you will cease to exist, but not today, and not because of that. 
We’re going to cease to exist at some point.

And cheer up, there really are a lot of plumbers. 
I lied about that.
james lee jobe

Antiwar.com (exactly what it sounds like)

Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.

Thich Nhat Hanh

In time, we will call the meeting to order,

a meeting for the purpose of understanding the earth.

Everyone present will have a voice;

rocks and people,

the soil and the animals,

the rivers and the plants,

everyone and everything that exists.

We can hear the truth from every point of view

and then come to understand this world around us.

And having learned what we need,

we can call for the vote;

shall we save this world,

or just give up and wait?

To do something, or just sit back

and wait for this world to die.

Life is made of choices.

james lee jobe

The moment you think of others, your mind widens.

Dalai Lama XIV

Gwendolyn Brooks: America in the Wintertime, a poem by Haki R, Madhubuti

RON CARTER, The Shadow Of Your Smile

Fields behind fields that were themselves behind fields.

I walked for hours, sometimes all day, close to the fences

or the treeline, and away from the few gravel roads.

My high school felt like a prison, with the violent

and the ignorant all around me, often challenging me

because of my obvious differences. I didn't fit in,

and, in truth, I didn't want to ever fit in there.

And in the vastness of the land I could lose myself,

I could be just a speck under the immense sky.

There was nothing to explain, and no one to question me.

I had my lunch, some smokes, and a book or two.

Sometimes I read poems aloud to the grazing cattle,

or slept by a creek with my back to a cottonwood tree.

In the long shadows of the afternoon I walked home

with the scent of the fields on my clothes and in my hair.

My father's home in Hunt County, Texas, in 1971.

james lee jobe

Neoteric Kama No Sutra, a poem by Frank X Walker

Life and death are of supreme importance. Time swiftly passes by and opportunity is lost. Each of us should strive to awaken. Awaken! Take heed, do not squander your life.

Dōgen

jlj

Macbeth, gone fishing

Macbeth doesn’t live in Scotland; he has a little shack down by Putah Creek, California, where there is no king to kill. Macbeth spends his days hunting for reeds to weave into baskets, doing a little fishing. The sun, the moon, and the stars do what they always do.

james lee jobe

Boihood, a poem by Jari Bradley

Tricky, Nothing's Changed (with Francesca Belmonte)

There is no god, and it’s that way because I wrote it in a poem. My personal theology comes down to a full notebook and the stub of a pencil.

james lee jobe

“Go out and do something. It isn’t your room that’s a prison, it’s yourself.”

-Sylvia Plath

What the duck was thinking right before the shotgun blast.

How I love to fly on a winter day with the treetops at my feet! The sky is my silver-blue sister, feather-free, and I am loved by all my kin, even the geese! And I love to paddle about on a frosty cold pond or river! The pond is a green-eyed brother giving comfort and food. To paddle and dream; that's the life! I think it's time for me to slow down, to take life a little easier. Yes! Good times are right around the corner!

james lee jobe

Dawn - by Robert Bly, 1926-2021

Some love to watch the sea bushes appearing at dawn,
To see night fall from the goose wings, and to hear
The conversations the night sea has with the dawn.

If we can't find Heaven, there are always bluejays.
Now you know why I spent my twenties crying.
Cries are required from those who wake disturbed at dawn.

Adam was called in to name the Red-Winged
Blackbirds, the Diamond Rattlers, and the Ring-Tailed
Raccoons washing God in the streams at dawn.

Centuries later, the Mesopotamian gods,
All curls and ears, showed up; behind them the Generals
With their blue-coated sons who will die at dawn.

Those grasshopper-eating hermits were so good
To stay all day in the cave; but it is also sweet
To see the fenceposts gradually appear at dawn.

People in love with the setting stars are right
To adore the baby who smells of the stable, but we know
That even the setting stars will disappear at dawn.

Hanshan on Cold Mountain. Meditation, poems, and laughter. The winter wind on the surface of the frozen snow.

james lee jobe

jlj

Wednesday, February 22, 2023

a brand new box of your favorite cereal

The land here wears a robe that lives
in shades of green.
Today, a blessing of rain.
The greens around me deepen,
they color my life,
and I sit with a quiet smile.

james lee jobe

I'm for truth, no matter who tells it. I'm for justice, no matter who it's for or against.

Malcolm X

Putah Creek lowlands

no hills

fields spread out north and south

farms and orchards

a few ranches

coyotes and owls and jack rabbits

silence

easy to find here

once you figure out silence what’s left

the big empty

that’s what

james lee jobe

Caring is all we have. Cynicism is just a soft form of denial.

Jenny Offill

To me it seems pretty easy to understand; life opens up like a brand new box of your favorite cereal on a lovely morning, but it’s also the morning when your favorite uncle dies.

james lee jobe

This is the gift of change, to know that although it is difficult right now, this too shall pass.

Martine Batchelor

Self-Care, a poem by Faylita Hicks

I, the poet James, hereby forgive
everyone who has ever hurt me,
and likewise, I forgive myself
for my own sins.
A winter afternoon
that feels more like spring.

james lee jobe

John Coltrane - Ascension

jlj

Tuesday, February 21, 2023

My heart is tired; isn’t yours?

We were born, and there was no hate in us. Underneath, aren’t we all just dreamers? Human beings with something in our spirit that moves us? We need acceptance after so many years of separation. My heart is tired; isn’t yours? If only governments and humans could share a kiss. A gentle touch. There would be no detention camps, no walls. Police wouldn’t come to the door at night if we rose up bearing the kindness with which we were born. There was no hate in us. Person helping person, surely that is our nature. Where we are born means nothing. Where we would be is a matter of preference and need. Let us be newborn again, and embrace each other with open arms, let us know us know each other with open hearts.

The 1970s. San Francisco, Mission St, between 2nd St & 16th. Walking distance from both Greyhound and Trailways buses. Run-down diners with 2 egg breakfasts, no meat, for $1.25 or so. I could a rent the saddest room in the city for $25 a week. Messenger companies hiring. Cheap pot, cheap wine. Goodwill and Salvation Army 1 block over on Howard. One dollar movies on Market, 1 block the other way. Except for work, I could go for weeks without conversation. Weekends, a 25 cent streetcar ride to Ocean Beach. Poetry readings somewhere almost every night, sit in the back and scribble in my notebook. Smoking pot openly on the street, never a problem. Or spend all day in the stacks at the SF library reading books from 1910, forgotten poets. I had no past, no future, lived day to day. Lucky Strikes. Street vendor hot dogs. Jack Spicer poems. That summertime layer of fog across the city and the bay.

There are signs… if you look for them. Species of creatures dying out, a rising sea, a smaller arctic. A feeling of dread on the population, people moving on in fear and desperation. And the answer? It isn’t ‘better politics.’ The answer is in our hearts, in our spirits. We need silence. We need emptiness. Friend, what we need is… less.

Cross the river and death will follow. Spend the years building and death will follow. Love the others or no one at all and death will follow. Plant a vast garden and death will follow. Be a sinner or a saint and death will follow. Tunnel through the rock bones of the earth and death will follow. Raise a family and death will follow. A lifetime alone on the mountain and death will follow. Play it safe or play it foolish and death will follow. Give praise and thanks or live in denial and death will follow. Death will follow. There is but one certainty, my friend, death will follow.

Opening the cages, my birds fly through the house.

Mis amiguitos, I give you the little bit of freedom that I can.

Para Pablo y Pico.

james lee jobe

Kawase Hasui - Snow at Zojoji Temple

Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does.

William James

The reason that remarkable stories of forgiveness take our breath away is that we instantly feel the liberation in the lifting of boundaries, the end of separation, of “inside” and “outside.”

Roshi Nancy Mujo Baker

Give without expecting anything in return, not even a "thank you." That is unconditional kindness, everything else is ego. But remember to accept everything with gratitude, including other people's kindness, for it isn't something to which you are entitled, it is a gift we can all give to one another.

Timber Hawkeye