the hard, cold, Baltimore accent of my youngest boyhood

LOUISE FENNE

Living large, ain't we?

In the dream I had been trying to hold something together 

that just could not be. I was alone, I had no one. The buildings 

were all old and dark inside. Red brick. A small, rather pretty 

LatinX woman seemed to want me to hold her, but I didn't. 

At the sight of her earnest smiles I walked away, every time. 

The dream changed, and I was watching another woman 

sort through endless stacks of pants. "We're livin' large, ain't we?" 

I said this to her, ever the cynic, even in my dreams. The thing is, 

I also said these words out loud, waking myself up, and my voice 

had the hard, cold, Baltimore accent of my youngest boyhood. 

It was like finding someone that you thought you had lost. 

The clock said 4:53 am, and I was still tired, but I got up anyway.

-james lee jobe

"You are not a drop in the ocean, you are an entire ocean in a drop."

-Rumi

LOUISE FENNE

The sun is a hot bath of pure light, a star of gold, but you're free to choose the darkness, if you want. Angels move among us, they look like anyone else. Keep your sword sharp and your wit sharper, they tell us, but you don't have to listen. There’s truth, there's propaganda, and there is a lot of space between the two. We live in that space. Language is a paint made of thoughts and ideas, and your life is a blank canvas. What colors will you use? Everything is made of choices, even the afterlife, people say, and 'god' knows you by what you choose. The iron is hot and soft; raise the hammer now, and beat it flat and true. Or don't. That’s a choice, too. 

-james lee jobe

If your practice is breathing, be one with breathing! If your practice is shikantaza, or just sitting, then just sit! If your practice is koan, be the koan! 

-Maezumi Roshi, “Appreciate Your Life”

PAUL McCARTNEY, "PHOTOGRAPHERS"
1964, New York City

A life worth living. 

You look and see that the sun has burned 

yet another hole in the world for our human love 

to slip through. Fortunately we have love enough 

to share, and more. We need not be ashamed 

of any of it. We survived, and we learned how 

to build a life that is worth living. The ones 

who have crossed over live on in our hearts. 

At the edge of the river I hear them on the wind, 

lost now to time and memory. We must be kind 

to the people who cross our paths today, friends 

and strangers. Who knows what they are suffering? 

-james lee jobe

Link: The Victorian On The Edge, a poem by Sandra Simonds

PAUL McCARTNEY, "Beatles Fans"

Watch out, little ants;

I'm moving the water hose

to the closer tree!

-james lee jobe

Link: Pilgrimage, a poem by Bhanu Kapil 

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