More Hobbies of an Unemployed Poet (May 21, 2005)

I guess I'm
collecting feathers
again

And aimless moments.


Wandering in the lost places
again

like the hillside below the abandoned state hospital
and the broad empty lawns of Amherst College.


-Jim

Unknown and Unfinished (July 31, 2001)

I was lost.

Unknown and unfinished,
I sat in the parking lot
while the rain threatened to fall
and finally did.


-Jim

Brief Encounters (Sept 5, 2000)

I saw the fading slogans
  of ever lasting love
    decorating the rusty railroad bridge
      in dare-devil
        spots.

I wondered about
  the people who wrote them,
    10, 15, 20 years ago.

I wondered
  if they still
    remembered.

I thought of you
and I wondered if
    our brief encounters
    were like those slogans,
  thrown up in a momentary abandon,
  left like relics
    for future lovers to find
    and wonder over.



-Jim DuBois

Universal Echoes of an Ancient Truth (July 1, 2006)

Universal echoes
of an ancient truth
filtering down
through the technological canopy
of today

distorted
by cellphone towers
and cheap plastic goods

corrupted
by escalating vices
and polluted waterways

forgotten
beneath a mountain
of pop-up windows


Universal echoes
of an ancient truth
seen here and there
in thrift shops
and the crazy buttery eyes
of select strangers

Universal echoes
of an ancient truth
whispering between the words
of religious propaganda

Universal echoes
of an ancient truth


-Jim DuBois

It Doesn't Turn Out Like in the Movies (Feb 25, 2005)

There's that face in the crowd,
a random person in a sea of strangers,
that sets your heart on fire,
and it doesn't turn out like in the movies,
because you never meet them,
and your struggle to tell them you love them
never gets resolved, one way or another.
You just go on seeing them every once in a while,
heart-aching, trying not to let on, trying not to care,
wondering why it seems to matter to begin with,
but not understanding how you can do nothing,
or how you could do anything, anyway.


-Jim DuBois

Sitting Outside State Street *

Everybody's rushing around here
but I don't know
what to do next.

I ate a banana
and a peach
and now
I'm sitting outside State Street
watching the cars go by.



-Jim

---

* State Street is short for State Street Fruit Store, a grocery store near where I live.

Randomly Regarding Infinity (Oct 1 2005)

Randomly regarding infinity

Compiling lists of words

Lost in the wilderness of time

I talk to dogs and other mammals




-Jim

Hollow Metal Phantoms (Jan 25, 2006)

Hollow metal phantoms
hurtling towards oblivion

The roots of the pea plants
tangled around my heart

Wasting and saving time
vanish like ghosts in light



-Jim

Step by Step (April 28, 2005)

Step by step
word by word
penny by penny

bite by bite
stone by stone
moment by moment



-Jim

For Every Time I Saw You (Sep 6, 2002)

I thought maybe
  I’d write a love poem
    for every time I saw you
      from a distance
        and longed to know your name,

A poem for every word
  that stuck in my throat
    when in your presence,

A poem for all the hours
  I spent thinking of
    ways to meet you
      that didn’t involve revealing
        that I already loved you.

But it would add up,
  you know,
    all that paper.

At first
  I’d slowly replace everything I own
    with stacks of love poems,
  but then the apartment would get too full,
  and the door would burst
  open like in the cartoons,
  with papers flying every-which-way
  …and there’s me running around,
  trying to keep things in order,
  keep them contained.

Me, running around making the worst
  hundred thousand poems
    into confetti
      for the impromptu parade
        for you,

And with the rest of the poems,
  building block after city block
    of shrines and monuments
      in your name.



                        - Jim DuBois

My Borrowed Ambition Pen (May 4, 2003)

My borrowed ambition pen:
      doodling,
                  noodling,
                              sketching,

trying to find
      what was lost

trying to arrange
      what is in disarry

trying to make sense of
      what doesn't make sense of


Like a mind of its own,
   it’s searching the shadows of my understanding,
      probing into my broken heart
         looking for the indestructible black box
            that holds the secrets
               to what went wrong


My borrowed ambition pen
   is travelling deep into outer space now,
      chasing comets of lost love,
         skirting the gravitational pulls
            of black hole disaster zones
               where nobody knows… knows what there
                  is there and nobody can.

What is it learning?
   What does it know?

When it gets back to earth
   we’ll have a party
      to study the complete map of the emotional cosmos
         called me,
      and we’ll put big red danger ‘X’s
         on certain spots,
         and never never go there
            except by accident,
            or if we have to because of true love again

Only this time I’ll have a new,
   re-enforced space suit,
      and extra oxygen tanks
      and plenty of food,
      in case I get stranded
         for a long time,
      and probably a homing beacon
         so you can come rescue me,
            all you people who were at my universe party
               and warned me not to go there,
                  but knew I would,
               because who can hold back
               where love and hearts are concerned,
               and who would want to anyway?


My borrowed ambition pen
   is like anti-kryptonite,
      boosting my strength to super human levels,
         and I’m using it to chop down
            forests of primal delusions
               where – by gum! – it’s still beating:
                  this old heart,
                     this old forgotten heart.

It looks like we got here in the nick of time, too,
   but it always feels like that,
      doesn’t it?



            -Jim DuBois

Hobbies of an Unemployed Poet (c. 2000)

Looking for change
Beneath pay phones and parking meters

Sweating shirtless in the sun

Hanging out in parking lots
    and on sidewalks

Abandoning practicality
    to study the mysteries of
        life and death,

Abandoning practicality
    to study faith.



            - Jim DuBois

Obsessing about my pants at 1:45 am (Oct 18, 2006)

Obsessing
about my pants
at 1:45 am

Obsessing
about my only sweater
at 1:55

Should I keep them?
Should I get rid of them?

Keep?
Get rid of?

Over and over

                (return to top of poem)



            - Jim DuBois

Poetic Grace (July 13, 2007)

I read about meaning
  and poetic grace
  and then
I fixed my toilet


        -Jim DuBois

Let’s Tell The Same Old Jokes (Nov 26, 2005)

Let’s tell the same old jokes:
Men are X
Women are Y
    ha ha ha

Kids are Z
    ha ha ha

The liberals _________
The conservatives ________
    ha ha ha

Let’s tell the same old jokes
Let’s buy the same old stuff
Let’s do the same thing every day

Let’s watch the same old
    white guy talk show host
        tell the same old jokes
            with the same old attitude:
                cynical, detached, passionless,
                    mean, empty,
                        american bullshit artist

Let’s make the same old movies
Let’s write the same old dialog
Let’s have the same old plots

Let’s have the same old news:
You’re fucked!
There’s a disaster,
There’s a war,
Be afraid

Let’s show the same old ads:
Cars will set you free,
Beer will get you sex,
other stupid shit will make your life easier

Let’s make the same old excuses
Let’s play the same old games
Let’s tell the same old jokes

Let’s write the same old lines
Let’s tell the same old lies
Let’s commit the same old
    slow-death suicide by overwhelming mediocrity
        so popular in America.


                            - Jim DuBois

A Real Life (Dec 4, 2005)

If we told the truth
  it would be a story of:

fucking
fighting
loving
hating
hurting
crying
shitting
sweating
chewing
farting
burping
puking
breathing
pissing
scratching

thinking
talking
swearing
yelling
whimpering
lying
longing
wondering
wanting
cringing
laughing
running
wishing
touching
holding
and
dying


        -Jim

Stuart

I wish they'd named me
    Stuart,
'Cause then I coulda
    been nicknamed
    "Primordial Stu",
And I woulda
    jumped around
    like a monkey
And started
    a rock band.



           -Jim

Dear Mr. Frost

Dear Mr. Frost,

I slapped some words
  on a page today
  and called it
  a poem.

I know you wouldn't approve,
  but you are dead
  and I
    am not.



        -Jim

Hidden Landscapes (June 2003, May 10 2006)

I don’t mean to alarm you,
but just outside the yard
there’s a pulsing landscape,
filled with ever-blooming flowers
and the un-dimmed dreams of youth.
All you need to do is raise your eyes
ever so slightly from the TV,
and cast your glance out the window
at the billowing clouds or
the momentary flight of birds,
or the sun going down
    over the hills,
and
        Bam!
you might never find your way
    back.



      - Jim

Strip Away the Tattoos

Strip away
    the tattoos
Throw out
    the designer belt
Remove
    the nose-ring
    and other assorted studs

Get out
    of your car
Discard
    your keys
Destroy
    your IDs
    and bank cards

Quit
    your job
Forget
    your date-of-birth
Erase
    your name



- Jim DuBois
Nov 20, 2005