Weaving gray and ivory through shadows of towering steel,
scraping the nimbus underbelly
plodding atop cobblestones, picking coal
my jumper is a basket, coated in ash
I read “To live. To err. To fall.”
and tire of reading.
Skimming Mediterranean skin, my view from the crow’s nest:
fishing pole planted where crested waves caress
land, where sailors drop to knees and kiss, dig
hands into the familiar gravity of home.
The arc of pole twitches and bobs
as the sea struggles to reprieve,
renegotiate, grope the abysmal night.
Hooked through the lip, I squeeze the Heron’s neck
of a guitar, play the blues
become the rain
become the sea
Become the farmer, St. Jerome
lead my flock through grassy mews, sectioned by stone walls.
“To recreate life out of life.”
Jim Davis has a B.A. in Studio Art from Knox College and I am currently studying poetry through Yale University. In addition to the arts, he is also an international professional football player. His unique combination of interests continues to offer him opportunities worldwide: teaching art lessons in Limerick, Ireland; sketching the Dolomite Mountain landscape on the Austrian/Italian border; swimming in the Mediterranean Sea after football practice in Valencia, Spain.