Jim I love you. I am so grateful for your poem. You have allowed me to taste those fruits again and have given me back a torch that lights a lath to what is essential and what is beautiful in life.
It was many years ago:
Every summer I could, I would go to unreachable California beaches with no trails and with just a very tall straight drop down to the Ocean and guarded by poison oak patches.
I would drink milk from goats that had eaten poison oak for a few days and then rope myself down to a desolate beach. I built a home out if driftwood, and only brought a surf board, a lot of water and many limes among other things.
I was surprised to find someone at that beach....yet the Vietnam Veteran that resided there for therapy fished with a fishing pole, line and bait.
We became friends when I would swim to the Bull whip Kelp forest, hide in its perimeter to mask my sounds (we humans sound like broken glass in water) and I would use a cured bamboo rod with a bicycle tire innertube. I would stretch it up the body of the rod and hold it really tight. I would hide, let go, and fish.
I would come out with extra fish and the man would still be waiting for his fish without luck.
After a few weeks we shared the work. He would make the fire, dry the seaweed we harvested, I would fish and we would eat once a day.
We never spoke, his tattoos said everything and my heartbreak and confusion is always visible.
Your love and appreciation for me has created the "old Maya kings"..... Most of my family is Simply: Maya: I am the blend that holds all of the stories from Maya: Quiche , Lebanese, Spanish and Ganifura people that came together in Guatemala to sprout generations of my family.
The Monastery had sweet "Mispero" fruit trees, lemon trees, orange tress and Hibiscus flowers. Your love, your constant creativity, your undescribeable talents via your poem; have allowed me to taste it all, all over again.
Thank you so much Jim DuBois. I am no longer in the desert.
RESTAURANT SUCK: Even Healthy Restaurants
Menu: Hand Harvested Grilled Seafood:
Hand-Speared Rockfish, California Halibut or Barred Sandbass grilled over hand gathered: aged driftwood and ocean rocks.
Seasoned with organic lemons, and gently rubbed with hibiscus petals grown in a Monastery.
Served with a generous side: medley of sun dried California seaweeds.
All of the ingredients have been harvested in the wild by our Chef...
I ACTUALLY ATE AT A RESTAURANT IN SILVER CITY, THAT SOUNDED JUST LIKE THAT....AND IT MADE ME FEEL SICK... I have issues with the glorification of Chefs....it's all classism.....on a menu.
Anyhow: It would read beautifully on a menu.
I am grateful for you and your limitless talents Jim DuBois. You are an truly amazing poet.
2 comments:
Jim I love you. I am so grateful for your poem. You have allowed me to taste those fruits again and have given me back a torch that lights a lath to what is essential and what is beautiful in life.
It was many years ago:
Every summer I could, I would go to unreachable California beaches with no trails and with just a very tall straight drop down to the Ocean and guarded by poison oak patches.
I would drink milk from goats that had eaten poison oak for a few days and then rope myself down to a desolate beach.
I built a home out if driftwood, and only brought a surf board, a lot of water and many limes among other things.
I was surprised to find someone at that beach....yet the Vietnam Veteran that resided there for therapy fished with a fishing pole, line and bait.
We became friends when I would swim to the Bull whip Kelp forest, hide in its perimeter to mask my sounds
(we humans sound like broken glass in water) and I would use a cured bamboo rod with a bicycle tire innertube. I would stretch it up the body of the rod and hold it really tight. I would hide, let go, and fish.
I would come out with extra fish and the man would still be waiting for his fish without luck.
After a few weeks we shared the work. He would make the fire, dry the seaweed we harvested, I would fish and we would eat once a day.
We never spoke, his tattoos said everything and my heartbreak and confusion is always visible.
Your love and appreciation for me has created the "old Maya kings"..... Most of my family is Simply: Maya: I am the blend that holds all of the stories from Maya: Quiche , Lebanese, Spanish and Ganifura people that came together in Guatemala to sprout generations of my family.
The Monastery had sweet "Mispero" fruit trees, lemon trees, orange tress and Hibiscus flowers. Your love, your constant creativity, your undescribeable talents via your poem; have allowed me to taste it all, all over again.
Thank you so much Jim DuBois.
I am no longer in the desert.
RESTAURANT SUCK: Even Healthy Restaurants
Menu:
Hand Harvested Grilled Seafood:
Hand-Speared Rockfish, California Halibut or Barred Sandbass grilled over hand gathered: aged driftwood and ocean rocks.
Seasoned with organic lemons, and gently rubbed with hibiscus petals grown in a Monastery.
Served with a generous side: medley of sun dried California seaweeds.
All of the ingredients have been harvested in the wild by our Chef...
I ACTUALLY ATE AT A RESTAURANT IN SILVER CITY, THAT SOUNDED JUST LIKE THAT....AND IT MADE ME FEEL SICK... I have issues with the glorification of Chefs....it's all classism.....on a menu.
Anyhow: It would read beautifully on a menu.
I am grateful for you and your limitless talents Jim DuBois. You are an truly amazing poet.
The previous comment goes to this poem, which is just before this one on the blog:
http://jimdubois.blogspot.com/2016/01/something-essential.html
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