Author Archives: Jim Stewart
I’m supposed to be finishing a novel but I’m not. It’s a murky late summer day with an uncertain sky and a directionally challenged breeze smelling of salt and fir, marsh and cedar. My characters are all hovering around the … Continue reading
A young boy, dressed in clean but threadbare jeans and a shirt that might have once been red, took in my leathers and my road-weary black Harley. He then shot me a look that was older than he was. “Mister? … Continue reading
Her passionate eyesheld mine as she elegantlyvoiced her heart’s intent.When she looked awayI snuck a peek into her cleavageand immediately looked up,embarrassed, apologizingto the sky and allthe women in my heart.But I chanced another glance as soon as I could. … Continue reading
The mirror barksa noiseless disdain;the backward eyesshadow quiet despair;a vacancy of intent, wherea blink hides nothing. (image: the americanconservative.com)
The dog catches my eyeand whines his question:“Now, Boss, now?”An idea: the smell of saltopens my mind.I laugh and nod.He stands with a clatterof claws on hardwood,tail high and boisterous, ashe prances around the couch.His eager head presses throughthe red … Continue reading
Consciousness,the universe is–a way to understandand make small enougha vastness into parts.Your mind will nevergrasp the whole, no,that is a feelingfor your soulto warm whencold clasps your heartand galaxies never seenseem almost familiarand close enoughto nod acquaintance.Understanding isaccepting you cannot.
(for William Stafford) Your poems run the gamut;you have blessed us with musicof realization and understanding.Many of those poems were bornon your couch, lying on your back,looking up at your journal.Really? Their birth is asastonishing as their venerable lives.
(Here’s an example of a the beginning of a daily writing session. Initially, I made no edits. But I couldn’t stand it, so now it’strying to become a poem. I’ve changed the original, so my firsteffort has been subverted. Silly … Continue reading