prose poem - 'In the morning the light comes for us'

In the morning the light comes for us, no matter how desperate we were in the night. In the darkness. Even this valley has some measure of cheer when the light of a new day drapes it in warmth. The lovely pale light. The sky, so immense, reaches from the floor of the valley to the sun. To the stars. Or so it seems. Who are we? What is that we think we know?

James

25 Aug 2019
oktu

prose poem - 'Midnight again, moonlight and wind.'

Midnight again, moonlight and wind. I cannot put down the poems of Miyazawa Kenji and Ilya Kaminsky. I keep reading on into the night. Then my own scribbles in a notebook. A gust of wind rattles the old loose window and that which I call my soul shoots straight up into outer space. Spacemen gather to me, and I read them a poem.

James

28 May 2019

25 Aug 2019
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prose poem - 'This is the taste of darkness'

This is the taste of darkness, the taste of metal in the air, the taste of electricity. You close your eyes to the sunlight of noon. The taste of your eyes. The taste of sunlight, the taste of day. Walking with your eyes closed, no, they're covered, and one arm is reaching out. The taste of walking. The taste of an arm in the air. Now it is night, you can taste the darkness, like metal, like electricity. This is the taste of being alive. 

James

25 Aug 2019

-An earlier version of this appeared in Medusa's Kitchen.

prose poem - 'The river is a fine book to read'

The river is a fine book to read; it can’t help it. The river races from high ground to low like a run-on sentence wrapped around a wonderful plot. Of course, you do have to read between the lines.

James

24 Aug 2019 

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prose poem - 'If your life is so hard.....'

If your life is so hard with your career and your home (Oh how you are put upon!), let me send you a family from Guatemala that has neither, only hunger and fear.

James
28 May 2019
24 Aug 2019

prose poem - 'Pork chops defrosting on an old chipped plate....'

Pork chops defrosting on an old chipped plate, with watery drops of pig blood reflecting the morning light from a warm, beautiful sun, a light as soft as a touch, dappled across the windows, filtered as it is by the green leaves of the crape myrtle trees. 

James

27 May 2019

23 Aug 2019

prose poem - 'Where are we? We exist...'

Where are we? We exist in the space between two seconds, between darkness and light. The second before and the second yet to be are of no consequence. We are everything and everything is us. Breathe in, open yourself to the beautiful emptiness. Exhale. 

James
27 May 2019
23 Aug 2019
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prose poem - 'Love and hope walk together...'

Love and hope walk together down the same street. Sunset, sunrise, midnight; it doesn’t
matter. Step by step they walk, arms linked.

Strength and faith nurture each other. People could learn from this example. There is
strength in faith, and through faith, one can find immense strength.

Love. Hope. Strength. Faith. Open your heart, open your arms, open your eyes. We are
the universe, and the universe is us. Go now, live your life.

James

23 Aug 2019

oktu

prose poem - 'Like blood on the hands of a policeman'

Like blood on the hands of a policeman, like the screams of a beaten prisoner; a cat cries out in the night. It is the sound of my life spreading out in the darkness. It is the sound that says, “Now. At last.” I cannot swallow midnight with my mouth bound by a gag. I cannot breathe from behind this choke-hold. The cat cries out again and again. The night drags on like a jail sentence.

James

22 Aug 2019

oktu

prose poem - 'The stream knows...'

The stream knows that the way to the river is downhill, and likewise does the river find the sea. It doesn’t matter if it is day or night, the journey continues. Where are you going, and how will you get there? Follow your heart.

James

20 Aug 2019

oktu

prose poem - 'Open yourself to your life'

Open yourself to your life the way a window opens to let in light and air.To welcome life is to meet that which is divine. That which is divine opens her arms and holds you like a lover. Friend, that which is divine is a lover. Open yourself to your life. Don’t wait any longer.

James

20 Aug 2019

prose poem - 'A cold night. I shiver as I write...'

A cold night. I shiver as I write down the names of the gods I deny, and then erase them all. The page is again blank. Each time I erase a god, I say, "There are no gods."

Ghosts watch me, or so it seems. I rise from the hard, straight chair, and wrap a blanket around myself, return, sit, and pick up the pencil to begin again. This could take a long time. From behind, a ghost holds me in her whispery arms, and I tell her, "There are no ghosts."

James

26 May 2019

20 Aug 2019

prose poem - 'I woke from a nap. The bullet-gray sky...'

I woke from a nap. The bullet-gray sky had turned blue and pulled at my hair. My third eye burst open, exposing the flowers in me. Walking on the earth was like being born again. And then I was born again. 

James 

25 May 2019

20 Aug 2019

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prose poem - 'People with two good eyes often don’t see...'

People with two good eyes often don’t see what’s right in front of them. Why? Because one eye is always looking at the past and the other one is busy trying to visualize a make-believe future. Focus, please! A whole planet full of goodness is right in front of you.

People will throw out a lettuce that went soft, but hang on the past like an heirloom. Well, it isn’t; the past is bullshit. Dead and gone, and you can’t change any of it.

Why not forgive yourself and everyone else and move on? The same with the future, life will opens its wings at times. Who knows when? Not me.

But there is this wonderful thing called Now. Now is a diamond, a sweet and ripe tomato, a kiss from a new lover. Wake up, open your eyes, and see.

James 

19 Aug 2019

prose poem - 'America keeps children in cages now.'

America keeps children in cages now. Not all children, just brown ones. In America, some people are ashamed of this and others seem proud. Still other Americans have grown a third eye, an invisible eye that watches the government like a lion watches a meaty antelope. Eventually, the antelope will be on its own for a second. Then it’s going down.

James

19 Aug 2019

prose poem - 'The violent, the cruel, and the ignorant...'

The violent, the cruel, and the ignorant call out for war with Iran. They are caught up in their Samsara like a fallen leaf spinning in a whirlpool. As I write this, it is a gray and cold morning in May, more like winter than spring, and I am sipping coffee, thinking of peace, and saying a prayer for those who seek war. May they know peace. May the leaf escape the whirlpool. 

James
25 May 2019
19 Aug 2019
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