Dreary, muted Sunday,
wind-blown spaces
snowy and empty:
Boxing day, 8:40 a.m.,
at the local big box store:
unexpectedly, outside the car window:
dull white, grey gulls fly,
disappear --- chameleon-like ---
against intractable, dull white, grey clouds:
hushed, natural intimations of the infinitely bigger picture;
a sudden, bourgeoning sense of the thoroughgoing mystery,
the "way out of the wilderness":
intrigued the human heart beats again roused.
The scarcity that really utters
above all others
is duplicity upset
DARKNESS
by how thoroughgoing dirty
I saw the errors of my eye ways
I mourn the bad decisions made
keeping the light out my eyes
absence is in its way
present of mankind...Darkness Reigns
5/7/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
on tour, gone to the mountain, raising the roof,
keeping time w/ the music of the spheres;
down that old, ecstatic, out-of-the Way-
honky tonk highway,
a star blazing brighter
in the mystery of the night
in the heart of the desert.
***
(Usury is dead, not God.
There're no bloodied, dancing bears
in the three-ring circus.
There're no circuses.
There's only bread.
There's no organ grinder's cowed monkey,
cap and beggar's cup in hand.
Sweeping, the river runs fuller.
Cacti grow taller, more thoroughgoing,
desert blooms burgeoning,
blooming richer in the moonlight.)
***
Real deal,
saint and sinner,
hunkered thundering over his drum kit,
and coolest in dark shades in the heat and
glare of the spotlight,
he beams, Buddha-like.