the picture of what I am not

AMOS AMIT

“O, ah! The awareness of emptiness brings forth a heart of compassion!”

Gary Snyder

an early spring and the lone cloud above 

is racing its own shadow across the long flat 

floor of the valley       it is already halfway 

to the western hills before I can finish 

humming this song in my head    I turn 

my old bicycle around and ride with the wind 

instead of fighting against it    a blue sky 

now empty    the song is finished     and 

in the green and moving trees    many birds 

james lee jobe

“If the world seems cold to you, kindle fires to warm it.”

Lucy Larcom

I am getting older and I wonder 

if I will fall apart into many pieces 

the arms of james     the feet 

here is my head with mount tamalpais for a nose 

and two blue seas for eyes     my seas are full 

and spill over onto the beaches of my face 

here are my toes like small boulders    see how 

they avalanche into my old shoes       my hair 

is a thinning forest with birds in the trees 

they are singing for you      there is an empty place 

in my chest      that is the cave where the old hermit lives 

for years he has not spoken a word 

on nights like this he walks in the forest 

and leaves no tracks     go inside the cave and wait for him 

there is wood for a fire     try and stay warm 

because   my friend      it will be a long wait 

james lee jobe

“Happiness is not a destination, it's a method of travel.”

San Juan de la Cruz (St John of the Cross)

THE PICTURE OF WHAT I AM NOT 

You can look for me on the parched ocean, you can look for me 

On the breaking waves of the desert, on the flatness 

Of the mountains that speak, on the heights of the low valley 

That is silent. Through the shell of years I will count the days 

And the nights. And here, in this world without color I will paint 

The picture of what I am not. The picture of what I am is already 

Within your grasp, or hanging, framed on your own wall. 

These are times of change and wonder, just as the oracle 

Said they would be. Where will you go? And what will you do 

When you get there? When you finally get so very tired 

That you cannot go even one step, stop where you are 

And look around. I do not know what it is that you will see, 

But I am absolutely certain of what you will not see. Me.

james lee jobe

"Do not wait to strike till the iron is hot; but make it hot by striking."

William Butler Yeats

AMOS AMIT

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james