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 poems 

yes I love lighting the sage and letting smoke blow 

over haunted rich words 

a flicker from the white candle 

of creating something from the magick of nothing 

the magick of everything 

pounding letters with the mortar and pestle 

putting ideas into the steaming cauldron 

watching a poem bubble up to the surface of the brew 

 yes I will chant the words 

and embrace the goddess with three faces 

art is magick 

life is magick 

now look at the page 

the magick is here 

it always was 

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. 

Noam Chomsky

I love how the rich pines stay green all the year round 

whispering through the knife of winter 

and napping through the sluggish summer 

the sky above offers encouragement and a sliver of breath 

blessed by the sun  the moon  and the stars 

and I also love that 

every day I wake up early to touch the thoughts I had while sleeping 

as a boy I could not see the man that I would become 

though I tried 

the pines grew but otherwise stayed the same 

I changed constantly and still do 

and yes this is something else to love 

you see   i love a lot and that is a fine thing 

and my life is a sliver of breath 

encouraged by the sky above the pines 

blessed by the sun  the moon  and the stars 

each in their orbits 

racing above the pleasure of these changes 

james lee jobe 

The practice of Zen is forgetting the self in the act of uniting with something. 

 Koun Yamada

does poetry build extra rooms to the house of my life 

or just fill my rooms with useless objects 

and the more I own   the more I am owned 

outside the sun toasts the afternoon like a bagel

I have butter   I have jam 

and I have pen and paper 

james lee jobe 

Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love.

Rumi

I am a lofty night cloud over the Sabine bottomlands 

I am a morning biscuit dipped into honey 

james lee jobe 

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 tonight 

this bright moon bright over my old village 

my brothers are scattered 

and I have no home to ask 

are they alive or dead 

letters never arrive 

war comes and goes 

then it comes like this 

again 

TU FU 712-770 CE

Please help support this blog with a small donation on the BUY ME A COFFEE link below. Every little bit helps! -jlj