James Lee Jobe Poems

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  for C. G. Macdonald, 1956-2006


Charlie, sunrise is a three-legged mongrel dog,

going deaf, already blind in one eye,

answering to the unlikely name, 'Lucky.'


The sky, at gray-blue dawn, is a football field painted 

by smiling artists. Each artist has 3 arms, 3 hands, 3 legs.

One leg drags behind, leaving a trail, leaving a mark.


The future resembles a cloudy dream 

where...Read more of this...

 You are not beaten. The simple music rises up,

children's voices in the air, sound floating out

across the land and on to the river beyond,

over the valley's floor. No, you cannot go back

for those things you lost, the parts of yourself

that were taken, often by force. Like an animal

in the forest you must weep it all away at once,

violently, and...Read more of this...

 Quiet! Today the earth tells me, be quiet.

Ssh! No talking now. Our soul

is listening to tiny things, almost silent.

This is a language that you feel.

Our soul, says the earth, hears every little sound....Read more of this...

 It??™s two muddy miles from Highway 20,
just past the north fork of Cache Creek,
across the broad meadow, through 
blue oak woodland, up, up to the ridge,
and back down to the creek bank,
the crossing point, me striding with
mud caking my old hiking boots.



For a millennia the Miwok people walked 
these canyons and ridges. Pomo, too.
Gathering acorns to trade, the sweetest...Read more of this...

 It's mid-winter and the sunrise knows it, and wakes me 

with a shudder; I'm just a man. 


For 5 cold mornings in a row, the beautiful pheasant 

has come to our patio to steal some of the dry catfood, 

sometimes right in front of my cat.


The house is still, and I enjoy the Sunday newspaper 

with strong, dark coffee;...Read more of this...

 It could be Valley Oak or Snap-bean,

Elderberry, or Cattail rising out of the creek;

all began the same, a spark of life inside,

the need to be coaxing their will into action.


Seed and pod, nut and bulb, cajoled awake, called 

by the warmth of the sun, moisture in the soil, 

swelling them, filling their hearts, beginning 

the slow push against the...Read more of this...

 I planted my grief
in freshly turned earth
A tree grows there now
You should see the size of it

I filled my wheel-barrow
with all my pointless regrets
I put them out by the curb
A truck will pick them up on Thursday

I spent some time following my cat
She led me all around our yard
stopping to rub her face in mint
I rubbed my face in...Read more of this...