moon farts
the universe is a family
Your mind is a cave, says he
thank goodness for that, says me
The mountain snow loves the river
the river loves the valley
the valley loves the trees
and the crops (so do we)
the universe is a family
my sisters and brothers
Before you even notice
the barn owls have sewn you a blanket
from a cloth made of darkness
the cloth of night
to keep your dreams warm
dark as night and warm as sin
your dreams play on
like your own personal Kubrick movie
and when you whisk off the blanket
the dreams are over
it is morning again on earth
time to wake up
be thankful for the barn owls
Yuba River, so cold
even in August
to ease in (or jump)
on a blistering day
refreshes everything
your body, mind, and thinking
is reborn in the cold water
woodsprites laugh
and jump in behind you
floating along in the current
you feel complete
a human in the universe
We need to speak now of moon farts
you see, the moon farts
at the American president
— not just the current one, all of them —
passed gas for George Washington
for Herb Hoover and Jimmy Buchanan
left, right, or center doesn’t matter
the moon farts at politics and at the wealthy
stinkers for corporation or armies
stinkers for prime ministers and kings
popes, senators, and TV ministers
— astronauts and scientists are ok —
the moon isn’t here for those who are in charge
the moon exists for children and artists
for poets and howling wolves
for people making love
the moon is yours and mine
goddamn it all
Poems by James Lee Jobe
6.10.2026
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