the magick is here

Richard Benbrook - Sheepdog
May we walk with grace and may the light of the universe shine upon our path.
Anonymous
I love the witchy parts of writing poemsÂ
yes I love lighting the sage and letting smoke blowÂ
over haunted rich wordsÂ
a flicker from the white candleÂ
of creating something from the magick of nothingÂ
the magick of everythingÂ
pounding letters with the mortar and pestleÂ
putting ideas into the steaming cauldronÂ
watching a poem bubble up to the surface of the brewÂ
 yes I will chant the wordsÂ
and embrace the goddess with three facesÂ
art is magickÂ
life is magickÂ
now look at the pageÂ
the magick is hereÂ
it always wasÂ
james lee jobe
Boots Of Spanish Leather, Bob Dylan
Everybody's worried about stopping terrorism. Well, there's a really easy way: stop participating in it.Â
Noam Chomsky
I love how the rich pines stay green all the year roundÂ
whispering through the knife of winterÂ
and napping through the sluggish summerÂ
the sky above offers encouragement and a sliver of breathÂ
blessed by the sun the moon and the starsÂ
and I also love thatÂ
every day I wake up early to touch the thoughts I had while sleepingÂ
as a boy I could not see the man that I would becomeÂ
though I triedÂ
the pines grew but otherwise stayed the sameÂ
I changed constantly and still doÂ
and yes this is something else to loveÂ
you see  i love a lot and that is a fine thingÂ
and my life is a sliver of breathÂ
encouraged by the sky above the pinesÂ
blessed by the sun the moon and the starsÂ
each in their orbitsÂ
racing above the pleasure of these changesÂ
james lee jobeÂ
The practice of Zen is forgetting the self in the act of uniting with something.Â
 Koun Yamada
does poetry build extra rooms to the house of my lifeÂ
or just fill my rooms with useless objectsÂ
and the more I own  the more I am ownedÂ
outside the sun toasts the afternoon like a bagel
I have butter  I have jamÂ
and I have pen and paperÂ
james lee jobeÂ
Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love.
Rumi
I am a lofty night cloud over the Sabine bottomlandsÂ
I am a morning biscuit dipped into honeyÂ
james lee jobeÂ

MOONLIT NIGHT THINKING OF MY BROTHERS
the warning drums have ended all travel
yet a lone goose cries across the borderlands of autumn
white dew begins tonightÂ
this bright moon bright over my old villageÂ
my brothers are scatteredÂ
and I have no home to askÂ
are they alive or deadÂ
letters never arriveÂ
war comes and goesÂ
then it comes like thisÂ
againÂ
TU FU 712-770 CE

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