cowboy bebop and gypsy crawl -jazz folk blues for the love jones

it is coming
in the mist creeping
over the hills
kissing needles on
thirsty firs
beetles scurry through
the parched grass
aphid children
splashing
sliding down stalks as high
as the coyote paw
returning home
in the morning light

the weighted scent
of the distant ocean
gently flows through
the window cracked
and kisses the cheek
of the dreaming boy
smiling
he knows
he is home
creeping in the mist

life is strange
and life is wonderful
and it doesn’t go
any way you thought it would

slow the rules go
stopping to say hello
then bustle and bump
and rush to pass by

because black is white
and the sun can turn blue
the oceans turn lemon
as i swim deep with you

for if the sky should fall
come crashing to earth
dust clouds cough, settle, and linger
but it’s food for the singer

riddles, like middles,
are ticklish to touch
so chose your words wisely
preferring to blush

answers come like a
summer shower thunder
when you feel it in your veins
a poet a prophet a sinner a saint
all sit playing cards inside the pearly gate

because black is white
and the sun can turn blue
the oceans turn lemon
as i swim deep with you

~jon ji

one hundred chinese poems
staring back at me
rhythm sticks lay on the ground
dark aborigine
a collection of gypsy jazz
and a shirt that is much too small
waiting to be sent
to a child in the fall

this pattern is my prison
of walls myself i make
of rhythms like a curse on
marching words to a beat
a strict and simple meter
that comes so easily
a childish prose that flows
and knows exactly where to be

it’s a little daffy
it’s a little bugs
a tune of loony moons and spoons
that’s starting to really tug
and chug and steam
my mind is racing
oh my inner voice
off and running
insane and spun thing
a hyper little boy

the sky was turning lighter shade of black-becoming-blue.
venus sitting right above the mountain ridgeline off to the east
the big mountains separating us from the real desert.
not the hum of the southern california freeway at 5:30 in the morning,
but the giant quiet desert, so silent and calm at night, so hard and fierce in the day.

venus was so big and bright, and seemingly all alone, since the sky had begun to turn.
she was ready to go, yet, she hung up there with a watchful eye.
is she lonely, does she linger?
maybe to see what happens next, maybe to see all home safely.
or maybe since this was saturday becoming sunday morning,
venus was not done with humans and their game of love.

is she happy, sad, or curious?