Now the odor is jasmine.

poems, plus some bits & pieces

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there's that song from the wizard of of oz, 

"somewhere over the rainbow," 

that could be a clue. 

this old soul came here from over a rainbow, 

flying through the invisible tunnel 

from the universe to my mother's vagina. 

there was an orgasmic explosion of life 

empowering my father's sperm, and there I was, 

leaping out with with a poem 

and a head for nonsense. 

oh life, thank you for the ride. 

-

Life isn't about what happened to you yesterday, no matter how cruel or wonderful it was. And it isn't about what might or might not happen tomorrow. Life is today, right now.

-

We all have regrets, even the best of us. Mine 

Is that I waited so long to breathe, living 

Breathless at the edge of Pluto's shadow. 

At the edge of Hydra. Rivers rose 

From the pull of gravity and the weight 

Of the wait. I swam to toward you 

In rough river water. Something from the deep 

Touched my feet, something that I could not see. 

I was not breathing. When we met I took you 

Into my arms, and the current pulled us down. 

Hydra circled Pluto, as it always does, 

But you and I never saw it. Not once.  We 

Did not even look. And yes, I do regret that. 

-

Kindness is this wonderous thing. The more you use it, the more of it there is to use. Life is short. Be kind.

-

Without compassion, what's left?

A shell of a life.

An empty heart. 

-

I am drinking the dark milk. 

I offer no defense against the razors of the sky 

Or that secret language of computers and governments. 

Look at my scars, they have a taste. They have an odor, 

And that odor is foul. 

Scars with the scent of sin, the scent of guilt. 

The smell of dark milk in a dirty glass. I am nothing. 

I can live with that. 

Come here to me. Stand under the light, 

I want to look at your naked body up close. 

The tiny mountains of your nipples. 

The soft curl of your pubic hair. 

I want to trace the shape of your lips under a harsh light, 

Under a bare bulb. Now I am putting my hands on your face. 

I am stroking the gentle line of your jaw 

With the symphony of my fingers. 

Now I am taking your hands in mine, moving your hands to my body. 

This is where I want you to touch me. Here. 

And here. 

Look at the razors of the sky. 

Listen to the secret language of computers and governments. 

Raise high the glass of dark milk. 

Touch my scars with your cool, sweet tongue. 

Now the odor is lavender, 

Now the odor is jasmine.

-

If you let you believe what others say about you, you are letting them define you. Care for yourself, define yourself to the world.

by James Lee Jobe 

-

from Thich Nhat Hanh:

Love by the way you walk, the way you sit, the way you eat. This world very much needs love.

-

My path is the path of stopping, the path of enjoying the present moment. It is a path where every step brings me back to my true home. It is a path that leads nowhere. I am on my way home. I arrive at every step.

-

It is always possible to practice releasing the tension in yourself.

Anyone can build a house of wood and bricks, but the Buddha taught that that is not our real home. Our real home is inner peace.

-Ajahn Chah

-

To obtain satori, one must let go of the ego. 

To receive everything, one must open one's hands and give. 

-Taisen Deshimaru

-

I would like to be a scholar in whatever I do, a scholar is never finished, he is always seeking and I am always seeking. 

- Ahmad Jamal, jazz pianist

Ahmad Jamal, 1930-2023

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James