The poet, before dawn, time for zazen
—Poems and Photos by James Lee Jobe, Davis, CA
Let this day be spent in unity, not divisiveness; a day spent in the heart, not the mind. May there be safety and kindness. If there is victory, let it be in not needing to win.
______________________
And when I am blessed,
It is often with the smallest of things.
My grandchild's laugh.
That first glimpse of the sunrise.
A perfect apple.
And then again, perhaps
These blessings are not that small
After all.
Christian Mosaic at St. James Church, Davis, CA
Walking under the tall pine trees in the moonlight;
Who needs those fools and all their politics?
_______________
I walked through the rattlesnake mountains
Paying little mind.
White boulders, white clouds.
A patch of grass, a patch of snow.
The poet makes pinto beans and smoked ham hocks
I was brown, so they shot at me.
I spoke a different language, so they jailed me.
I was not born here, so strangers cursed at me,
Some of them hit me.
Being brown, speaking another language,
And being born far away, across an invisible line?
I have no business existing.
Right?
After all, this is America,
Land of equality.
And that's not for just anybody.
Two Pastas with turkey meatballs and creamy Alfredo sauce.
Cabbage, carrots, and carmelized sweet onion sautéed
in extra virgin olive oil.
The hermit doesn't sleep much at night,
In love as he is with the empty blue of the moon.
And there is that sweet rustle in the pine trees,
Just a little breeze. The hermit listens
The same way a man listens to a woman sing,
Entranced. Enrapt. In love.
A night so lovely.
_______________
I found the storm to be truly frightening,
But the rainbow that followed it
Called me a fool.
My storm seemed to me to cross the entire valley,
Like a young athlete leaping a hurdle.
Perhaps to you, it was like a young child
Skipping down the sidewalk to school.
The poet heads off somewhere.
My life is a fast horse, and I am pulling the reins back hard. But he doesn't stop. He doesn't even slow down—his stride is my heartbeat. I live in the microseconds between each of his hooves touching the ground, and I exist in the spaces between his breaths. Dropping the reins entirely, I let him carry me where he will.
__________________
The moon pulls up the edge of the ocean
the way that you and I pull up a blanket.
You and I call it "high tide,"
but the moon just says "good night."
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
The clouds pass by, they are
But an entertainment for the sky—
—And for you and I.
—James Lee Jobe
_________________
Thanks to James Lee Jobe for today’s fine poems and for his tasty feast of photos! Tomorrow, he will be hosting Dorine Jennette and Phillip Larrea at the Davis Arts Center Poetry Series on Covell and F Sts. in Davis, 2-4pm. And don’t forget his blog for Yolo County poets, at yolocountypoems.blogspot.com/.
And today, if you’re down by Angels Camp, stop in at the Hoot and Holler Cowboy Poetry and Storytelling Contest at the corner of Raspberry and Main, from 12-1pm. 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.
—Medusa
The moon says good night.
—Anonymous
(Celebrate poetry!)
—Anonymous
(Celebrate poetry!)
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.