the highway between two thoughts

Milt Kobayashi

grabbing some magic

who hasn't followed a thirsty goat down to the water

or was it a hairy backed pig

anyone

and who hasn't held their hands up to the sky during a storm

to pretend that lightning bolts are shooting out of their fingertips

no    not you

well you must have whispered your lusty secrets

to the angels that circle your pointy old head

not that either

friend   exactly what kind of life are you living over there

do try and grab some magic

before the light goes out

where you weep I will break the darkness

the highway between two thoughts that replaces time
with something that cannot be measured

a mirror with a golden back that faces the sun
another mirror with a silver back that faces the moon

a wind that makes waves in the sky that match the beauty of the waves
in a warm and turquoise sea and yet are invisible

a child's simple line drawing of a family
that somehow shows the pain and sorrow of loss and fear

where you live I will not love death
where you dream I will not embrace denial
where you weep I will break the darkness
where you age I will plant the garden

that which was forgiven is forgotten and blessed
and is now painted on the canvas with the oils of heaven

that which was loved by the daughter the sister the wife and the mother
and honored at last by the son the brother the husband and the father

that which was lifted up to the kind light of a new morning
captures the light like strength and saves it until night returns

that which was said in prayer and dressed in magic
is now the music that plays for the pleasure of the stars

where you love I will kneel and pray
where you sleep I will kneel and pray
while you keep hope I will kneel and pray
when your hope falters I will kneel and pray

listening to him describe his wife's death

Even the pigeons knew something was wrong. They shifted
from foot to foot on Capitol Avenue, looking up

at people. The bus went by, a truck went by; there’s a pattern
to it all you know. When pecking the dirt near 18th Street

the pigeons moved with a sullen nervousness. I hear
snippets of a friend’s conversation from across the noisy cafe.

“Coma,” I hear, and, “I didn’t even feel anymore.” “It was us,
just us . . .” It is his season with death. Outside the window,

the pigeons look up at me - for what? Answers? Keep pecking.
My friend talks and talks, a gentle man, a singer, a poet.

The cafe becomes full of the weight he carries, people
are uncomfortable for things they cannot know, only feel.

That is in us. It is far too heavy for the pigeons, who move
off towards 19th Street without much hope in their step.

Even the trees seem to bow their breezy heads in grief.
Tomorrow is the solstice, the longest night of the year.

-for Arthur Butler-

james lee jobe

There is nothing you can see that is not a flower; 

there is nothing you can think that is not the moon.

Matsuo Basho

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long enough that my eyes melted

jlj, my lemon tree

true north 

where is true north from here 

anyone 

because the earth is a giant box 

where we hide ugly things 

because the earth is also a tiny room 

where our skin is blue 

we are ripe 

with contradictions 

there are footprints here 

that cannot be explained by the police 

there is a bear skin rug on the floor 

and the constitution says 

we have the right to bear arms 

we are seeking true north 

and the priests are no help 

if this journey is to have any real meaning 

we need to get something right 

true north 

the earth defined 

an understanding of the footprints 

the vengeance of the bears 

something 

anything 

we'll settle for true north 

----

a spider on my bathroom wall 

looks like it is watching me 

but that could easily be my absurd ego 

where I live

one is never far from a spider 

once I was an arachnophobe

now I am used to them 

coming in for a close look 

I see that the spider 

is really a handsome beast 

"the room is yours" 

I say as I leave

----

What a pleasure it is to wake up and realize that there is nothing in life worthy of my fear.

----

the surf 

everything is equal in the emptiness of the void 

ocean beach   san francisco   some years ago 

or was it yesterday   it's all the same 

a rare clear day ending   how long did i stand there 

watching the sun slide down into the wildness 

of the pacific   long enough that my eyes melted 

and my thoughts melted   and I left my body behind 

rising up as the sun went down   one being loose 

in this universe   red flames against dark blue water 

everything is equal in the emptiness of the void 

james lee jobe

So long as little children are allowed to suffer, there is no true love in this world. 

Isadora Duncan

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james 

a poem - a haibun - a prayer

Detriment, by Mia Bergeron

silence is now our father

what has become of our voices
when did the crows come
and rip out our throats
silence is now our father
this land is filled with great ghettos
in city after city
and we say nothing
silence is now our father
children are going hungry
in the shadows of millionaires
children
do you hear me
hungry
and we say nothing
silence is now our father
there is not even a gurgling sound
in our throats
our taxes pay for the bombs
that blow apart hungry children
in other lands
children
do you hear me
blown apart
the fat pig of government
pours liquid gold
into the belly of the military
enough gold to feed all of the world
where is it spent
on bullets and jet fuel
on rifles and bombs
and we say nothing
silence is now our father
do we build schools
no
we build prisons
do we pass laws
to help people be free
no
we pass laws
to take their freedom away
and we say nothing
for silence is indeed our father
we are pumping life
from the earth itself
and pouring poison
into the empty hole
we are melting the ice caps
and allowing those who do it
to call it god's will
and we say nothing
and silence is indeed our father
no more
friend
it is time to find our voices
once again
it is time to speak
the emperor has no clothes
the people we were told are our enemies
are not our enemies
and it is time for us to stop being theirs
I say it is time to scream
to rage
are you listening
leave your house
stop getting stoned on your television
it is time now for us all to walk outside
and scream in the street as one
we'll just stop traffic and scream
we'll stop working and scream
we'll scream for the hungry children
we'll scream for the people
who sleep under the freeway
we'll scream for the women
turned away from the clinic
we'll scream for the prisoners with no hope
we'll scream for the iraqi villagers
crying at the graveside
we'll scream for the children
who walk north in terror
we'll scream for the family
that just can't make it until payday
we'll scream for the wounds of the earth
for the trash in the sea
we'll scream for the filth in the air
we'll scream for the leaders
getting rich on death and war
we'll scream for the lifetime
of lies we have endured
we'll scream for the numbness in our minds
we'll scream for the freedom of our hearts
we'll scream and we will not stop screaming
we'll scream because we are human beings
And we own our own bodies
we will all rise at last and go outside
and we will scream.
silence is not our father
silence is not our father
silence is not our father

-for larry jaffe & priyesha lobinha nair-

james lee jobe

_____

Do your harsh judgments make you happy?

Byron Katie 

_____

August, third week. (a haibun)

I watch the earth hungrily swallow the water as I put the hose on very low and leave it in the garden. Above me the tree branches are reaching out for even a hint of breeze. The day is seriously hot, and clear enough that I can see snow on the mountaintops of the Sierra Nevada, far to my east. Another month until the start of autumn, so there's still time to grow a few tomatoes, a few cucumbers.

Tend the earth, plant the seeds,

shower with water and love -

life is a garden.

james lee jobe

_____

If you become a little alert you will find
love, light, laughter, everywhere.

Osho

_____

prayer

from falsehood may I find truth
from despair may I find hope
from hate may I find love
from death may I find life
from the darkness may I find the light
for these things I pray

james lee jobe

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james 

prayers from the godless

by Robert Farkas 

__________

"why does an atheist pray"

it feels good to pray 

so I pray to the universe 

which actually does exist 

and I am a part of it 

I pray to say thank you 

for this life 

and I pray for friends in need 

and for people suffering anywhere 

I don't need a god to be a decent man 

it is a beautiful morning 

here in sunny and cool california 

my doggo and I enjoyed our walk 

so thank you universe for today 

and if it is my last day 

then it has been marvelous

-----

whose life has not been touched 

by bird-pecked fingers

and how can one deduce any answers 

without knowing what questions to ask 

life is a short quick ride 

bird-pecked or not 

push the fingers away 

only you get to decide 

what fingers may or may not 

touch you 

-----

sometimes there are times 

when you think you have time 

but time isn't something 

that you get to have 

if you think you have time 

that's a good time to take time 

to think nothing at all 

just be with yourself 

james lee jobe 

grandkid nappin' - by jlj

__________

What we call "I" is just a swinging door

which moves when we inhale and exhale.

Shunryu Suzuki

__________

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james 

An accounting and a culling.

photo - lewis hine

the other side of the mirror 

there is something happening on the reversed mirror

just out of sight    it is like a moon-rise waiting

to happen    do you see     the moon is hiding

behind those hills on the edge of this long flat valley

and the clouds are lining up like soldiers before an attack

mad officers are shouting ridiculous orders

that no one intends to obey

were you thinking   perhaps    of an old love

were you remembering a passion that has faded

turn the mirror around 

that is the greatness of being a human being

that one can alter the circumstance to welcome the divine

james lee jobe

down here

down here the earth is hot like the sloughs of death

like the breaking of waves

down here you flick a switch and crawling things come to life

wiggling and shining

now the trees have lost their shapes   the sky is the color of blood

and the women who do not shave have come to wash the bodies

were you thinking that now perhaps the bullets 

would go away

were you hoping that now perhaps the children 

could play outside once again

well no 

this is the part where there is an accounting 

and a culling

this is the part where some sort of retribution is planned

executed and then denied

down here you flick a switch and crawling things come to life 

wiggling and shining

down here the earth is hot like the sloughs of death 

like the breaking of waves

and you sweat

james lee jobe

You offer joy and happiness to another person, and it reflects back into your own life.

17th Karmapa

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james 

we open our chests to the sky

photo: robert frank

​this shirt 

the collar and sleeves are frayed 

the cloth is thin 

and these jeans have some spots

that are worn through 

I have sewn up holes 

in both of these socks too 

in a way the clothes 

match my old body and spirit 

I too am worn and frayed

warm for february 

people in sunlight with no jackets on 

sunlight in our hair
on our faces 

somehow it lessens the sadness of living 

just a little 
it’s a heavy life at times 

shall we open our chests to the sky 

and ask the sunlight to warm our hearts 

shall turn off our electronic devices 

and listen to the chirping of the birds 

as they hop on the grass 

and sing from the trees

yes let's do that 

let us now remove our shoes

and join the birds in the grass 

like children

hard things come in a life 

we cannot change that

but by god we can take a moment 

and enjoy the good things 

the tiny treasures
the joys

-for John Burroughs-

your body 

soft as a pillow

and I am so in need of sleep

james lee jobe

The poet is like a mouse in an enormous cheese excited by how much cheese there is to eat. 

CZESLAW MILOSZ

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giving up all of my absurd ambitions

now the chores are done 

and I reach for my notebook and pen 

no one cares or even notices 

sundown brings the darkness 

and the sky fills with those diamonds 

that we call stars 

it is quiet here 

and for you I hold this hope 

that you can know peace 

like I do 

--

the river water contains desire and delight 

I noticed it right away 

when my foot first touched the water 

I waded out into deep delusion 

where delight and desire are woven together 

like a Maidu basket 

I put my head under the cold waters 

and allowed desire to take me 

it was a strong feeling 

good 

delightful 

coming up I kicked toward the far shore 

and swam as hard as I was able 

as if I were still a much younger man 

--

That I might always keep my heart full of compassion, so full that there is no room for anything else. Life happens only in the present moment.

--

the idea of giving up all of my absurd ambitions 

seems like a gift to me now    a christmas present 

the winter sky at night    a cold storm blows in 

I raise my arms up to heaven   love and compassion 

then emptiness    no thought at all

is the best thought after all 

james lee jobe

--

Zen mind is not Zen mind.

Throwing away Zen mind is correct Zen mind.

Seung Sahn

--

If you enjoy this blog, and I hope that you do, please consider making a donation through the BUY ME A COFFEE button below. (Not every time you come here, just maybe once in awhile.) It's done safely online, and just takes a moment. I could use the supplement since my mobility issues no longer allow me to work. Thanks! 

james 

a tomorrow with no promise

by Kenneth Patchen

midnight 

tired 

it is much too late to die young 

so there's that 

the night unfolds like a map and we are lost dogs 

walking 

beneath a moon that is himself lost 

beneath a few scattered clouds without names 

that are lit from behind and invite our stares 

dogs 

we circle and circle and circle 

and finally settle down to sleep 

we have no names and bear no collars 

night sounds 

the hoot of a lone owl 

a tomorrow with no promise 

but no burdens 

a tomorrow that creeps in 

on dog paws 

unfolding like a map 

james lee jobe 

We have been too quiet for too long. There comes a time when you have to say something. You have to make a little noise. You have to move your feet. This is the time.

John Lewis 1940-2020

Out from the corners of night, shadows gather like hungry soldiers at mess. To the west, these shadows slowly eat the Vaca Hills and roll down easy to the ocean to drown.

Veterans sleep in front of TV sets, numbed by beer and weak programming.

From the south, a chill breeze races up the delta lands and marshes, the estuaries. Herons shiver in the cold water, wading and hunting. Dragonflies race; they are fighter pilots in a Hollywood movie.

This breeze makes a lonely sound, like a saxophone on the radio. Like a child crying for something it cannot have.

The corners of night square off into a box. The lid is shut now. It will not open until morning.

james lee jobe 

Everyone makes mistakes. The wise are not people who never make mistakes, but those who forgive themselves and learn from their mistakes.

Ajahn Brahm

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Thanks, jlj