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| Jane Ray |
my country is the sledgehammer that we use
when we smash rocks into gravel
and when we are finished with the rocks
we beat on the gravel even more
in this way our country is even in the dust
that we breathe
god bless america
"We are not born to survive. Only to live."
W. S. Merwin
In my dream I was returning to New Orleans to eat a sandwich. It seemed perfectly normal to do this. I rode a bicycle with ladders tied to the sides, long ways. Cumbersome, sure, this also seemed like a perfectly normal thing to be doing. And New Orleans is only a couple of thousand miles away. The dream changed into some problem with my mother, who seemed to be a different woman than my actual mother and I had to keep squinting my eyes to see her. That was OK, too. I never got to New Orleans and I never ate the sandwich. Somewhere along the way I lost the bike with the ladders, in some endless shopping mall. And the problem with my new mother was never resolved. Good morning. Did you sleep well? Did you dream?
james lee jobe
Rather than assuming you will know how people will act, take a deep breath and open yourself to the possibility that today is a new day.
Yael Shy, “Five Practices for Your Daily Commute”
the endless pale heavens call to me again
reminding me that i am alive and free
now
this moment
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| Jane Ray |
links:
They Sit Together on the Porch, a poem by Wendell Berry
Alone in bed thinking about another breakup, a poem by Ty Chapman
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jlj
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