Noel, I forgot you were dead

"That's where
I met Noel
selling paper ephemera
at the sidewalk sale.

He's this interesting guy...

...well, he was...

I forgot: he died
this past winter.

We would
bump into each other
around town,
play a little magic
or poker,
he would tell me
about being italian,
about his Sicilian hertitage,
and then we wouldn't
see each other
for a while,
six months or a year.

I guess I figured
this was just another
of those
in between times.

Maybe that's
a better way
to think about it
anyway."


-Jim DuBois
Aug, 4, 2016

Some things from today

Some things from today
(while you're away in England):

Chocolate cake from Woodstar at 9:30 am.
Not as good as before.
Glad I went back
for another piece.
Laundry
(yours and mine)
and cleaning
(sweeping and picking up)
at your house.

Further plans include:
Reading in the hammock,
pulling up seedlings
and raking,
cooking an egg or two
for lunch.

Later I am going
to play Magic
and eat with Jesús,
which I am sure
you want to know about
because you love
me doing what I love.

Love
Love
Love


-Jim DuBois
May 20, 2016

The Trees Above

The trees above
the sidewalk outside
Amanouz at night -
protecting me from
the infinite universe beyond.

Aug 30, 2014

Nachos at Fire & Water

They used to
bake the Nachos
in the oven
at first,
back in the day,
20 years or so ago,
at Fire & Water
and I remember
eating them
on a particular day.

Even though
they took longer
to make,
they came out great,
but then
Fire & Water started
using the microwave,
and they
weren't the same
anymore.

It was
a long time ago
and I never expected
something as ordinary
as that particular
plate of Nachos
to have such resonance
in my memory.


-Jim DuBois
Dec 19 2015

Why Everything Takes Too Long and No One Can Actually Know History, or Anything Else, Probably

I left Cafe Evolution
to get back on my bike
and head home,
but I noticed
that my bag of groceries
was missing,
so I looked around,
asked if anyone had seen it,
nope, oh well,
and I was in
a bad mood already,

so I ride home thinking,

"What kind of asshole
steals a loaf of bread
and a bottle of vitamins
out of a crappy looking bike?"

and trying to be reasonable:

"I guess they probably
needed it badly,"

but veering away from that
to thinking about how
I would have caused
them harm if I
caught them in the act,
then veering away
from THAT
to thinking
that maybe somehow
I deserved to have
it stolen from me
because my white people
took land from the Indians,
and then fantasizing about
posting about the theft on FB
to get some sympathy
but thinking
that's probably
too self indulgent and lame
and then fantasizing
about what I will say
to the host of the party
I was going to bring
the bread to,
like,

"Somebody stole it
from my bike!
I was too discouraged
and sad and broke
to go buy another one,
so I didn't bring anything.
I hope that's ok,"

but thinking that's
probably lame too,
but maybe not,
if said relaxedly.

Alright, well,
I get home
and check FB
and they had found the bag
under a car at the cafe!

So I biked back
to get it
and I'm thinking again
the whole way,
like,

"How did it get under there?
Maybe some asshole
was hiding it to get later."

or maybe someone
was being "kind"
by taking my bread
out of the sun,
which sounds
absurd now,
but was convincing then,
who knows why.

Then it clicked in my brain...

the bike basket had been
tilted oddly to one side...

the bike must have fallen over,
the bag fell out,
rolled under the car,
and someone
righted the bike after...

but of course
I started imagining
that maybe they
were pissed off
about not having
enough room
on the bike rack,
so they probably
roughly shoved my bike
around on purpose.

"What kind of
fucking asshole
does that???"

Then I guess I calmed down,
because I got my stuff back,
and I decided
to try and record
all the details

(and of course
I left out tons,
forgot so much, etc)

of this one incident,
one afternoon,
one man
and his thoughts,
his misinterpretations
and imaginings
about something so trivial,
in order to show
why everything takes too long
and no one can actually
know history,
or anything else,
probably.


-Jim DuBois
September 4, 2015

I Remember Richard

He used to say,
"I'm the only
Jewish Indian!"

Born in Brooklyn,
he'd gone and lived
at Pine Ridge reservation
back in the '60s or '70s
and gotten to be
one of the tribe
somehow.

I met him at
Fire & Water,
and we would talk
about things I mostly
don't remember now,
except that he had
spiritual things to say
about ordering pie,
like,

"We pay not for goods
and services,
but out of kindness towards
the people who worked
at making it,"

and,

"Since we are only
here for a short time,
it's important
to enjoy things like pie."

He was also the one
who told me to read
Lame Deer, seeker of visions,
because I think he knew
Lame Deer personally,
and that book's the reason
I say hello to squirrels
out loud now.

Richard was one of those friends
you'd see randomly
at the cafe,
so its hard to say
when the last time
I saw him was,
but its been a while now
since Fire & Water
even existed
and he was old back then,
so who knows
where he's gone to now,
and I'm not sure why
he came to mind
all these years later,
but here is
my message for him
wherever he is:

"Shalom aleichem,
Toksa ake waunkte."


-Jim DuBois
Aug 30, 2015

Chasing Sunsets

I remember
getting up late
in the winter one year
and going out to chase
the last bit
of sun
and running into you.

We went to Fire and Water
and sat there for a minute
before inspiration struck
and we decided
to go climb Bare Mountain.

Even though
it was pretty late,
we thought if we rushed,
we could make it to
the top for the sunset.

Of course, it was January
and there was slick
ice-covered snow
all over that steep trail
and we had to drive
a half hour to start,
but we went
and ran up that trail,
and fell over and
slid back a lot,
and missed the sunset
but reached the top
and then falteringly
made our way down
in the dark.


And it turned into
a thing we did
that winter.

Not planned,
always at the last minute
when we bumped into
each other in town,
we'd say "I bet
we can make it up
______ mountain
and see the sunset
if we rush!
Let's go!"

And we'd get
partway up
and notice the sun
going down,
and head off-trail,
straight up the hillside,
punching holes in the
ice crust to keep
our hold,
and rushing, and slipping
and sending ice-chunks
zipping down behind us
and never make the top
in time
and laughing at each other
when we fell over
and over
on the way down.

We never, never
saw the sunset
from a peak,
but it was
such a good winter.


-Jim DuBois
Dec 22, 2014

I’m putting chairs away

I’m putting chairs away
in the boathouse
You’re giving away his clothes

I’m putting swings away
in the garage
You’re selling his car

Tomorrow, we move back
form the lake
Yesterday, you brought
his urn
down to Northampton


-Jim DuBois
Sept 18, 2010

Intellectual in a tea house in Northampton

Intellectual in a tea house
in Northampton,
reading Langston Hughes
and Diane Wakoski
paying too much
for tea
and a seat in the window
so all the holiday shoppers
can see how cool I am


-Jim DuBois
Nov 23, 2013

The Other Side of Familiar Things

I took
  a path

I knew
  by heart,

but it
  was overgrown

and I got lost

- just enough
to come out
20 feet
from the
old trail entrance

and there
was
a beautiful old
stone wall
with a drain
through it,
a lost bit
of the old
state hospital
which I
had walked by
for years
and never known.



-Jim DuBois
Sep 25, 2013

Nowhere

A great place to sit
and watch
a lot of people
going nowhere.


-Jim DuBois

Sometimes you notice

Sometimes you notice
you live in a beautiful place



-Jim DuBois
Aug 13, 2013

Me at 43

Riding my bike
in the Meadows
near my home,
on the floodplain
of the Connecticut river
on a summer afternoon,

"I guess
I haven't
squeezed all the juice
out of life yet!"



-Jim DuBois
Aug 15, 2013

Living only on Wednesday

Living only on Wednesday,
living only on this bench
outside the library
below the grey clouds


-Jim DuBois
May 22, 2013

Sometimes - eBook

I have a new poetry book in eBook format, available on the iTunes Bookstore for $2.99.

It is a collection of early poems by me, featuring themes of love, loneliness, space travel and spirituality.

Many of the poems have not appeared on this blog.



Get a copy.

Or view my all my books, eBook and print, as well.

Grandfather Turtle, and Snake Hunting Near Gregor's Crossing

"Thank you,"
I say
as the first snake
of the season
slithers into view
ahead of me
on the dirt path.

I slow down.

I take its picture.

I start to think
about all the animals
I have seen
down here
near Gregor's Crossing,
the snakes,
frogs,
owls,
ducks,
fish,
chipmunks,
and beavers.

And one time,
when the evening light
was slanting
in just the right
way to illuminate
the streambed
clearly to me
on the bank,
I saw this
giant 3-foot long
turtle
swimming along placidly.
So I followed along,
tried to get pictures
but none came out,
wondered where he came
from,
thought about age
and survival.

There were many people
nearby that day,
walking,
swimming,
enjoying the day,
but none of them
noticed the turtle,
and he seemed
to sense
when they were
nearby
in the water,
and turn back.

Old Grandfather Turtle,
I thought,
swimming near
Gregor's Crossing,
appearing only
when the light
and time are right,
appearing only to those
who can notice,
who can be silent
or still for
the right amount
of time.
Not noticeable
by the hectic modern
world of humans,
but still swimming
below the surface,
holding to the old ways,
the peaceful
and silent ways,
the enduring ways.


-Jim DuBois
April 18, 2013


PS - Two days before I put up this poem, I went for a walk, saying to myself, "I will notice the present moment this whole walk." And then I saw the turtle again! I got a few pictures.

Looking for Something to do

Looking for something
to do
on Saturday afternoon

- a beautiful sunny
spring afternoon.

All this town,
filled with nothingness
once you stop consuming.

Empty, pointless
spring afternoon.

The real story?
or the thawing numbness
of winter?


-Jim DuBois
March 29, 2013

Sun-tracking

Sitting in the cafe,
waiting for the sun to shift,
or shadow to cover me,
I am surrounded by
busy laptop people.

I don't think
anyone realized
I was using my teacup
and notebook
as a sun-tracker.


-Jim DuBois
Feb 20, 2012

because you told me

I woke up
as a bad-ass madman poet,
stalking downtown,
daring you to cross me,
to try to fuck me over,
because you told me to "break"
and what you don't know is
I never will,
but then I felt
a horrible desperate loneliness,
injected behind my eyes like fire,
melting my neurons together,
seizing my limbs,
and it was a feeling the night couldn't cure
and fucking can only hold at bay
and fucking and fucking and fucking
can only hold at bay.


-Jim DuBois
12/11/08

Say Something!

Many years ago now,
I had this unbearable
crush on a librarian
at the Forbes library.

It was the kind of crush
that left me
unable to talk
in her presence.

I would go by
every few days
and get out books
just to see if she
was there,
and invariably,
if she was,
utter a timid thanks
and leave.

It was so unbearable
that I resolved one day
to say something
next time,
no matter what.

(Now, I must tell you
that I have made
resolutions of that nature
before
and they usually don't work
- one time I had resolved
to say something
to a woman I kept seeing
on the sidewalks downtown
and the pressure built up
so much
that I
jumped behind a tree
to hide
the next time
I saw her coming.)

So, I go to the library
and my crush is there.

She takes my book
to check it out
and I am saying
(in my head,)
"Do it! Say something!
Now is the chance!
Seize the day!
You never know what will happen!"
but I'm feeling like
it will be very awkward.

This battle continues
for a bit
as I stare down
at my library card
in my hands.

Then I look up,
and say (out loud),
"My library card
is made out of paper!"

There is this brief
yet horrifying pause
and then she says,
sounding eager to talk to me,
"Oh yes, and now,
you can get plastic ones!"

And that was
real progress for me.

I planned to follow it up
on other days,
with equally chatty statements,
but unfortunately,
that was the last time
I ever saw her.


-Jim DuBois
August 24, 2011