Moonlight at Sanzenin Shrine, Kyoto. Kawase Hasui |
Perfect happiness is the absence of striving for happiness.
-Zhuangzi
I was born in a village so small that no one bothered to name it.
Baltimore is its name. There's about a million people.
Same thing.
You hated it, I loved it.
Same thing.
You dragged me to Texas, so I ended up hating you.
When you died I skipped the funeral, Father,
and then I waited twenty years to visit your grave.
I wanted to give that final "fuck you" between us
just a little time to settle.
It didn't matter.
Same thing.
When I finally went to your grave, I took a small son with me.
I spoke my piece, and it was harsh, but forgiving,
and my son wanted to speak, too.
He just wanted to have a grandfather, but no.
Now he's gone, too. My son.
Same thing.
It isn't, but it is.
I am a city, a small village.
I am a million people.
And you? You're Texas, and you always were.
My son is the sum of us.
Same thing.
My grief is a funeral, and this time I can't skip it.
Even now the mourners are lining up to toss flowers
into my son’s open grave.
Baltimore is its name. There's about a million people.
Same thing.
You hated it, I loved it.
Same thing.
You dragged me to Texas, so I ended up hating you.
When you died I skipped the funeral, Father,
and then I waited twenty years to visit your grave.
I wanted to give that final "fuck you" between us
just a little time to settle.
It didn't matter.
Same thing.
When I finally went to your grave, I took a small son with me.
I spoke my piece, and it was harsh, but forgiving,
and my son wanted to speak, too.
He just wanted to have a grandfather, but no.
Now he's gone, too. My son.
Same thing.
It isn't, but it is.
I am a city, a small village.
I am a million people.
And you? You're Texas, and you always were.
My son is the sum of us.
Same thing.
My grief is a funeral, and this time I can't skip it.
Even now the mourners are lining up to toss flowers
into my son’s open grave.
-james lee jobe
Emptiness is in fact the reservoir of infinite possibilities.
-D. T. Suzuk
nadia wicker |
A light grows in the distant sky,
out of the tightest corner of night.
A sound grows in the earth beneath us,
the sound of life rising up from the deep.
A new day is upon us. Here and now.
Wake up, my friend.
-james lee jobe
Better than any argument is to rise at dawn
and pick dew-wet red berries in a cup.
and pick dew-wet red berries in a cup.
-Wendell Berry
You're perfect just like you are.
And you could use a little improvement.
-james lee jobe
Summer, and the sunbeams stream fast,
like children running in yellow shoes.
-james lee jobe
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