One river is birth and the other river is death

Viki Kollerova, photographer

That I might peel away the layers of nonsense I have built around myself that hide who I am. That I might know myself before the time of knowing comes to an end, and that I might use that knowledge, such as it is, in a positive manner.

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Look at my hands. I am everything my father hated, everything he feared. And look at my eyes. My father is behind my eyes, watching everything I love, knowing the whole while that I never needed him, that I will never be what he wanted me to become. Truth is everything. This life belongs to me.

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Snowflakes first bless and then join the swift river. Snowfall on the upper Yuba.

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I have never been a farmer, but farmland feels welcoming to me, a green field under a golden sun, or corn stalks under a full moon; these things are a blessing. Thirty-seven years I have lived in this valley. The seasons of the year, the seasons of the crops; these are the seasons of my life. And that, too, is a blessing. 

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One river is birth and the other river is death; look for me at the confluence. I’ll be there; passing time, enjoying the water, and scribbling down these ridiculous poems.

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prose poems by james lee jobe

PETER GABRIEL - BIKO

The revolutionary sees his task as liberation not only of the oppressed but also of the oppressor. Happiness can never truly exist in a state of tension.

Steven Biko

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Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.

Pablo Picasso

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The most precious gift we can offer others is our presence. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers. 

Thich Nhat Hanh

LINKS:

Blood Sex, a poem by Crystal Valentine

Red Rum, a poem by Dorothea Lasky

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Thanks!  -jlj