those fools and all their politics

The Yuba River, from Edwards Crossing Bridge.
California Gold Country.

Shaping a fine river.

Take the water into your hands,
mold and shape it into a river.
Go on, put your heart into it.
Do this again and again. When done,
let all of your rivers merge,
one after another, one with the other,
until you finally have a huge river
that is long enough and swift enough
to carry you all the way to the sea.
Then lower your boat down into the water. 
Then just float.

--

A lovely day in spring.

A Cuban torch song from the 1950s plays in the background, a little too loudly. Perhaps the song is actually in the foreground. It is a beautiful spring day, but I cannot bring myself to go outside.

My son has been dead for one month, and his ashes wait in a little box on the table beside the hallway to his old room. When I walk past, I never fail to touch this box very lightly.

My, how long the days have become. How very slow.

--

Walking under the tall pine trees in the moonlight;

who needs those fools and all their politics? 

James Lee Jobe

Muddy Waters, Got My Mojo Workin'

"Poetry is ultimately mythology, the telling of the soul's passage through the valley of this life, its adventure in time, in history." 

Stanley Kunitz

--

"The elections are run by the same industries that sell toothpaste on television."

Noam Chomsky

You can help support this blog with a small occasional donation. The link is below. 

All Good Things - James