the whisper of the bones

yue minjun

"the owning."

does poetry build extra rooms to the house of my life

or just fill my rooms with useless objects

and the more i own the more i am owned?

outside the sun toasts the afternoon like a bagel,

i have butter, friend, and i have jam.

and i have pen and paper.

james lee jobe

“the best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart.”

helen keller

"that which is whispered." 

the whisper of the bones is empty. 

the whisper of the dirt is empty. 

on days of solid steel and nights 

that are riveted into place 

we answer to whispers. 

we answer to the truth. 

but what is truth? 

did someone ask that? 

if you cannot see the truth 

you might as well be blind. 

if you cannot hear the truth 

you might as well be deaf. 

whisper to the bones. 

say one word; yes. 

whisper to the dirt. 

say one word; yes. 

the truth isn't one thing for you 

and another for everyone else. 

go now. 

there is nothing more about this 

that i could ever tell you.

james lee jobe

flora borsi

"the bad news - you're falling through the air with no parachute. the good news - there's no ground."

 chögyam trungpa

i confess, i can easily lose myself

in the distant shimmers of heat

that rise from the flat earth

a dust mite morning in california.

james lee jobe

"that which is threatening to the ego is liberating to the heart."

ajahn amaro

yue minjun

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jlj