The song I see when the aspen leaves
change the angle of the sun
before it touches my skin,
weathered,
and the sound of a wing whistle
from a red-shafted flicker
sounds the same as the wind
vibrating
over the folds of my hammock,
Is a song of reunion,
sang by high deserts and snakeskin belts,
and concrete poured over big sagebrush,
a foundation
overwatched
by new moons,
and the blood of christ,
and magi in the zocalo,
unbathed,
and the smell of piles of split pinyon and juniper.
Beautiful. Thx for sharing.
Thank you Hana – my first shot at a poem (maybe my last!).
Jay, I came out of the Aspen trees this weekend in Monument. It’s early but they are changing. Gorgeous. Safe travels, hermano.
That was beautiful, Jay! I didn’t know you were so talented. (just kidding).
But in all seriousness, I’m blown away at the amazing life you live. The places you’ve been and experienced, others can only dream about. You truly are a blessing and I always look forward to new things you post. You’re an amazing man!
From your old Yerington friend,
Juda Torrez
Juda! That makes me feel pretty damn good. Thank you.
Jay,
I love the expression “the song I see”. It’s like smelling a color. Maybe you are on to a new expression of yourself, or maybe you have written a poem and now moved on. It matters not. You are a creative person with a good mind.
Did your time with the monks influence this in any way. Ya got to wonder!?!?
I continue to love you. Pat
I am sure it did! I’ve been doing a solid of job of simply being quieter, and I think it’s resulted in seeing and hearing things differently (the bird and my vibrating hammock, for example – the underside of the red-shafted flicker is red; so is my hammock. They looked and sounded similar. Music!). Thank you for the words – and I love you too! I miss you and Jim and think of you always. See you soon (but probably 2021).