Saturday, July 28, 2018


Jobe, still life with fruit and knife

May I be merciful, and in doing so find mercy.

May I share what I have, especially when there is not much to share,

And in doing so find my own heart.

May I forgive those who have wronged me,

And in doing so learn to finally forgive myself.

This I pray.

 Willie Jobe, 1991-2017

I worked nights, and he was a baby.

In the afternoons, I would nap on the sofa,

On my back, and he would nap on my belly

With his arms hanging down.

We slept easily in those earlier days.

His body and mind were perfect then,

My son, way before the heroin.

 Jobe, still life with rocks and sticks

The days pile up like leaves.

Studying the position of the moon,

Tasting the wind,

And watching the peppers and tomatoes

Growing in my garden;

It seems I have let the days pile up

Like leaves in autumn.

A year passes, a decade passes,

A lifetime; all quickly gone.

Then I am dust, you are dust,

And the moon is right back where it started.

Nothing changed, except for everything.


May compassion be part of our deepest nature. 

Let it arise from our interconnection with all things.

 James' Wish For Us All


The moon, like a snake, shed her skin last night. Skinless, she glowed even brighter, I could see that her light was the beacon that marked the dark and rocky shore, and so saved the small boats. Her light was a candle left in the window for the child who wandered so far; years have passed and she hasn't returned. Her light was a prayer across the face of the earth. Moon-skin at our feet. A light on our human faces. A light for our human faces.


I want to wash my face

Until my face has been washed away.

Gone. Faceless.

I will live faceless.

I want to wash my body

Until my flesh is gone.

I will go on as bones

And blood.

I want to wash until I feel clean,

But I can never feel clean again.

You cannot wash away the dirt

Of having failed your own son.

I spent the days between his death

And his funeral washing. And I was not clean.

I am not clean now.

 JL Jobe, Recovering from Vertigo

Pack up all the lights and put them away, but leave at least one window open. In summer, all of the windows. Pack up the music and the television and the computer and put them all away. Silence. Stillness. Now the night has robbed the sky away from the sun. Now the clouds are as silent as stone. Pack up your busy mind and put it away as well. Leave only your breath unpacked and out in the open. Now it is time to say the words—good night.

 The Poet's Hangout in Davis

Sunrise. Sacramento Valley.

Awaken, O feeble mind.

For once again the sun

Has almost cleared

The eastern mountains

And a regal purple light

Holds the sky in its arms.

Your life awaits. Awaken!


Today’s LittleNip:

That I might always speak up for those whose voices are not being heard. 

That I take it upon myself to do so without being asked.

—James Lee Jobe


Our thanks to James Lee Jobe, the newly-appointed Davis Poet Laureate, for today’s fine poems and pix!

This morning, Writers on the Air presents CharRon Smith and Carol Lynn Stevenson Grellas plus open mic at Sac. Poetry Center, 9:30am. Optional Theme: Family, as in We Are All Family or Love Doesn’t Stop at the Border (Love is an Immigrant).

Then this afternoon from 2-4pm, Poetic License meets at the Placerville Sr. Center in Placerville. The suggested topic for this month is "foxworthy”, but other subjects also welcome. Bring your own poems to share; read from your favorite poets; or just come to listen. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about these and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.


 —Anonymous Photo
Celebrate poetry!

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