goat gristle
'let the sky keep watch'
May I always do my part to keep the light shining, even though I may never understand what the light is.
5.11.2026
You want to pick up a lovely rock
that is a pale shade of blue but you can’t
the rock has grown roots like an old oak
and has attached itself to the earth
looking closely now
you see that the entire planet
and everything on it
has become one sold rock
now your feet are rock too
so is your body
and you are attached
perhaps forever
to the earth where you stand
I am sorry but this where I must leave you
for I am a busy man
and I am not attached to anything
A dream: I am pushing through the crowd to see a woman who is dressed in lion claws. It is Tuesday and the world is naked again. Thank God, the world is better that way. Lunch is served; bird heads and gristle on an old wooden tray. I am raising up the first bird head to the roar of approval from the nude population. It is crunchy and tastes like November. The lion claw lady dances seductively to the music of the gristle. “Is this gristle pork or beef?” The waiter ignores me until I ask again in Spanish. “Señor, esta es la cabra,” he tells me. Goat gristle. The lady spins and twists as I chew, her lion claws clicking perfectly in beat in time to the drums under the midday sun. When she asks, I tell her that my name is Enoch, though, of course, it isn’t.
Goodnight sleep tight
rest now holy world
I can see that you are tired
be easy
close the eyes of this earth
and sleep
let the sky keep watch
just rest
you don’t have to weep tonight
this love will keep growing
until tomorrow
yes until tomorrow
love will be enough
I filled a rusted pail with water from the river of you. Your name and your face splashed out over the sides as I walked, stumbling, carrying you into my house. I was parched for the lack of you. On top of the old table, I plunged the cup into your cold water and quickly drank you down into my body. This refreshed me. On some days I almost forgave you for leaving me to join the river, and I thought that one day I would, that I would get stronger, and know how to forgive. But it hasn't happened yet.
Gifts:
mountains built
from the bones of the earth,
as if by magic
stars
the candles of night
oceans
massive yet moved by gravity
humans
solitary yet moved by love
the sun and moon rise and set
as steady as the hands of a clock
going around in an endless circle
a day
a year
a lifetime
we open these gifts
give thanks
and then pass them on
Poems and prose poems by James Lee Jobe
This post is free for everyone, so feel free to share it wildly… I mean, responsibly.
