One at a Time

Fell’s Point, Baltimore
—Poems by James Lee Jobe, Davis, CA
—Photos of Baltimore Courtesy of James Lee Jobe

Sleep. Mine is far from regular. One night I will sleep fairly well and then the next night, hardy at all. Life for me sometimes comes on a 48-hour cycle. And that’s alright, I don’t fight it. Friend, there are people who resent the slow years and fret about the fast ones. James says take the days one at a time, just as they are. Even now, this present moment is golden.

 Basilica of the National Shrine of the Assumption 

of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Baltimore

Just as one opens the curtains to let in the sunlight, or opens the window for some fresh air, so did I allow Death into my house. Or did I? Perhaps Death was always here, just waiting in a different room, sipping tea, hoping to be needed.

 Charles Village, Baltimore

My old cat, Miss Kitty Maudru, lays buried just off my patio, under a crape myrtle where, in life, she often napped. I have five crape myrtles in all, but "Miss Kitty’s tree" is always the first to flower, every single year. For many years now her nap has gone on; even in sorrow, there can be a blessing, even in loss, something can flower.

 Harbor Place, Baltimore

Define life? OK. It is the lone snowflake that landed on the nose of the puppy.

 Little Italy, Baltimore

Honesty. There’s a need for more of it. A dog will sniff the  rear end of another dog, and then turn to be sniffed. There is no pretension in that. None. Dogs are naked and open about the nakedness. I am not suggesting that we humans go that far, but perhaps it might help to have a place where everyone is naked. A park. A shopping area. A neighborhood. Whenever we are at this place, we just strip. Here am I, just as I am. Here is my belly, here are my privates. The things we all have in common are greater than our differences, I believe that. And so perhaps living a part of life naked would make it easier to see that commonality.

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You cannot weigh your honesty on a bathroom scale or measure your honor with a tape measure. Driving west, tonight’s sunset was splendid, but how could I judge that? By comparing it to my tired eyes in the rearview mirror. Stay true, James. Stay honest.

 The Howard Peters Rawlings Conservatory 

at Druid Hill Park, Baltimore

War and hunger, and people, human beings, sleep in the streets. Yet still—a new flower, a new morning, a perfect moon.

__________________

Today’s LittleNip:

Brisk morning air on my face, and all of the earth at my feet. James, every journey begins with your first step.

—James Lee Jobe

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Our thanks to James Lee Jobe for his mighty poems, and for the photos he provided of Baltimore, about which he says, “The Prez was ragging on Baltimore this week. It's my hometown. I love B-more. Here are some pix.” Thanks, James!

And a note that Katy Brown will be reading in San Francisco tonight, Saturday, Aug. 3, from 7-9:30pm at La Promenade Café, 3643 Balboa St. near 38th Avenue. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about this and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.

—Medusa, celebrating the perfect moon!

 —Anonymous

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