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| Enso painted by Ellen Miffitt |
When I write, I feel like an armless, legless man
with a crayon in his mouth.
-Kurt Vonnegut
lines leading to something to count on
trees have grown through the spaces between my fingers
and their long tangled roots are now deep
in the tendons of my hand
the fruit on these trees is now finally ripe
and peering through the branches I can see
the lines that time has punched into my face
the river mad with rain
has run through the arroyo between my eyes
and has raced down to my lowest elevations
flooding my legs
my knees and my feet
when this hard storm passes
and the arroyo again is dry
I will walk back to the beginning
to my eyes
to see how this story begins
I would like to know
the sky has filled my ears with wind
and with radio signals from alpha centauri
maybe from some dark corner of my head
the frequency is hard to tune in
there is static and the message seems to be
in another language
one that I almost know
when daylight returns I will adjust my inner antennae
and pray
if all goes well they may yet be hope
let's count on that
---
Sorrow in my life? Yeah. Absolutely. But joy, too. Don't forget the joy and don't count me out. Not ever.
---
ted kooser's crossword puzzle
in an old book of poems by ted kooser I found a crossword puzzle
torn from a newspaper god knows when
three clues were left unsolved all in one corner of the puzzle
I could see it was my own writing
ink
I do crosswords in ink
the book where I left the puzzle is many years old
there's no telling how long ago it was that I gave up
or did I
perhaps I had just run out of time
and chose that book because I love ted kooser's poems
and so knew that I would return there eventually
and find that puzzle
and complete it
looking
I could see that I still did not know the answers
but I reached for a pen anyway
one needs closure in life
---
---
there is a lovely hill in my heart
the sun rises on one side
and sets on the other
perfectly
at noon the sun is exactly above
the crest on my hill
a lion lives here
and a bear
and a dove
wild flowers and pine trees
squirrels
the sounds and smells of nature
cover the hill
my hill
this happens everyday
and it is all in my heart
---
That we live is a good reason to keep hope.
by james lee jobe
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