Author Archives: Jim Stewart
Judgment
Judgment follows observation. I wish it were not so; an ancient directive to protect the body, to evaluate threat, a hard-wired alarm. The mind rides along. Sometimes, the mind convinces the body to do something crazy, something to flood the … Continue reading
Haiku–Good Men Gone
Good men gone away: one a friend, one an icon. I am lesser now. But I am also fuller from their influence and their example. (Gabo from januarymagazine.com; bench from coastalliving.com)
So Far, So Good
Who knows what will happen in sleep? I assume I will awaken when the light is just so. So far, so good. (both images from miriadna.com)
Haiki–Topped Golf Bird
White-tailed Junco flies low, a worm-burner golf shot; my old truck chuckles. (sitting: birds-of-north-america.net; flying: flickr.com)
Wanting
I want to write a poem today. It need not be art, it just needs to be. I want to write a poem every day with a deep abiding want, but allowing this desire will bring only more wanting, not poems. They will … Continue reading
Haiku–The Heart of My Matter
Music spins from me; my tears, my laughter are one. Sometimes, I’m singing. (guitar from fineartamerica.com; books from pitchfork.com; bottom: live at the Relief Pitcher)
Parts
Admiring a woman’s parts: curve of derriere, swell of breast, turn of legs, smooth of back, arch of neck, all clichés in a greater whole. When I am lost in cliché, my shrug says I’m hard-wired to look. It’s admiration, … Continue reading
Haiku–The Origin of Net Fishing
Did the first fish net come from a man watching a spider ply her trade? (left from camping-together.com; right from helladelicious.com; stockings from commons.wikimedia.org)
Haiku–Music is Home
(Note: had the privilege to attend a Jerry Douglas concert last night. He is astonishing.–jrs) Flashing fingers and steel on bronze has me happy to be in the world.



