—Poetry by James Lee Jobe, Davis, CA
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of James Lee Jobe
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of James Lee Jobe
It is 2 in the afternoon, on a Wednesday. I took a shower a few moments ago and now I am walking around the house in my boxers shorts and tee shirt with a yin-yang symbol on the front and the text, "That was Zen, This is Tao." And my support socks. Just now I have no reason to put on pants. It is 70 degrees. My conure is screaming, but then, he usually is. Conures are like that. I am drinking a coffee, Italian roast. I am 63 years, 3 months, 20 days, and 9 hours old. I like jazz, Spanish poetry, and baseball. Like everyone, I don't know when I will die. Unlike a lot of people, I don't really care that much. It isn't that I want to die, but I must die sometime. This is as good a moment as any. After all, I am wearing clean underwear.
More than 20 years have passed since I have seen or touched snow. This wide valley keeps me warm. My colors are all shades of green, graced with light. Sunlight on lush fields. Starlight on manzanita. Moonlight on the pines. Here in the California farmland, crops grow, and so do I.
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I’m no Christian, but those who hate in the name of the Christ? I find them truly repugnant. And yet, may they be blessed, may they be safe and happy. Yes, even them. Especially them.
Shake off that flesh, human. Step out of your body and I will step out of mine. We’ll meet tonight deep in the forest where dreams first take their shape. Dreams, born of spirit and forest mist. And moonlight.
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Now the earth tastes of flowers, perhaps irises, and these flowers bless our lives. I reject the abuses of my mother and my father just as I reject all flags and leaders. The earth and the flowers, the irises, are my family. There is no value to the memory of abuse, and there is no value in a flag. Life is for passion, love, kindness, and the beauty of things growing on the earth. Damn every last leader anywhere.
Fire ignites. Rivers flow downstream. Flowers open when the moment is right. Go and polish the mirror that shines inside yourself, and then stand under the sun at noontime. Reflect the glorious light with such strength that even the stars will know your name. My friend, your time is now, always now.
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Immortal soul? How absurd. We are flashes of lightning; random, lovely, and dangerous. We are those cactus flowers that bloom for only one day and then disappear forever. Why waste your time imagining more time? Bloom, you mad bastards!
Today’s LittleNip:
A strange old man catches my eye and holds my attention as he peers out of my mirror. Wait! He’s going to speak!
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—Medusa
"Life is for passion, love, kindness..."
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