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Leave No Trace: within, without, with others an illustrated collection of poems
This is a 'best of' selection of 94 poems from my previous four books, as well as four new, previously unpublished, works, as well as a short prose essay recounting a pilgrimage made to Tibet's Mt Kailash in 2009. The poems are accompanied by 84 pictures in high definition color, mostly original photographs, but also some of my paintings and drawings. As such it is a celebration of the visual arts as much as the spoken word.
185 pages, Kindle Edition
Published January 20, 2020
About the author
James A. Moore
8 books15 followersJames Moore has published eight collections of poems and original art. He has spent his adult life as a resident of Washington State, much of it off-grid in the remote North Central region, during which time he has worked as a climbing and vocational instructor.
Retired now and self employed with Opti-Mystic Arts, his spiritual and literary influences range from Lao Tzu, Buddha Shakyamuni, Longchenpa, C.G. Jung, Mises, Rothbard and Sowell to Gary Snyder, Robert Hunter, Richard Thompson and Dr. Seuss.
"Sun Made Flesh and Fiber"
In the woods of your own making every tree
has a dark side
and each, a whole, casts a shadow.
Where can you turn
to find a way through?
Where can you run
that does not lead back into?
Trees, however dark and dense we find them,
only grow by the light of Sun.
They are in fact Sun made flesh and fiber,
and we, Sun’s eyes
as bright as stars
whose dust we honor,
have no home but here.
(2019)
"Nonmeditation"
Watch the mind
not like a cat sits
watching for mice,
but how a child lays
gazing into the open sky
as cloud-trains pass.
Simply watch the mind,
and eventually it will invite you in
to meet the family.
(4/2/22)
"Lipstick on a Pig"
No matter what you do in samsara
in the effort to improve samsara,
improve yourself, improve others,
it’s still samsara.
All effort, all improvement, never leaves the wheel,
but that doesn’t mean there’s only the wheel.
The wheel is what spins, ever-changing,
the embodiment of impermanence,
but what it spins in
spins around,
spins for,
is another story altogether.
(8/19/23)
"In Praise of Mindlessness"
I’ve sought and found mindlessness in a variety of ways
From dancing to climbing, meditating and painting,
but in retirement I find it easiest mowing the arboretum.
As I weave in and out of the randomly placed trees and shrubs
and regularly spaced irrigation pipes
I seek the novel and fresh at every turn.
It’s best when I find it
unexpectedly zipping off in a new direction
exploring new pathways, carving new patterns.
In these moments there is a rush
as the spontaneous surprises me, creativity takes hold,
and I can’t help but ride the moment.
I’ve spent years aiming for this moment on a cushion
and find poetic justice
in the fact it is at last as easy as pie in retirement.
Of course it’s not true mindlessness
after that initial spontaneous instant.
I have to make sure I don’t drive over anything.
But random is always an option,
and eagerly seeking it leads me to fall, or in this case, drive
into spontaneous mindlessness again, and again.
.
The joy that accompanies the mindless
is what interests me most.
It’s a self-contained joy that feeds on and for itself.
The German word, ‘funktionslust’ describes it best.
The joy an animal gets doing what it’s meant to do
which of course means it just gets better at doing it.
This is how birds learn to fly and primates climb,
how yogis become accomplished doing nothing and going nowhere,
and how lazy old men get the lawn mowed, with effortless joy.
(9/2/23)
"The Heart of the Matter"
What is it that really matters?
Is it finding the answers to the big questions,
- finding our place in the cosmology of it all -
Or is it something else entirely,
Something more personal and immediate,
Something of the heart and not the head?
I’ll leave it at that.
(1/7/24)
"Not My Battle"
It’s not my battle
Not my hill to die on
Or claim as king.
I’d rather just sit peacefully
On some lonely mountain
Enjoying the sounds of silence.
Sure I can see the dust rise
And hear occasional horns blow
Of the little battles raging far below.
But it’s not my battle
Nor hill to die on
At least not on this fine day…
(8/9/25)
"Stigmata"
Sometimes the marks of greatness
Are obvious for everyone to see
And sometimes they are so subtle
That it takes the stillness of a heart
To feel, what has always been
(10/6/25)
Retired now and self employed with Opti-Mystic Arts, his spiritual and literary influences range from Lao Tzu, Buddha Shakyamuni, Longchenpa, C.G. Jung, Mises, Rothbard and Sowell to Gary Snyder, Robert Hunter, Richard Thompson and Dr. Seuss.
"Sun Made Flesh and Fiber"
In the woods of your own making every tree
has a dark side
and each, a whole, casts a shadow.
Where can you turn
to find a way through?
Where can you run
that does not lead back into?
Trees, however dark and dense we find them,
only grow by the light of Sun.
They are in fact Sun made flesh and fiber,
and we, Sun’s eyes
as bright as stars
whose dust we honor,
have no home but here.
(2019)
"Nonmeditation"
Watch the mind
not like a cat sits
watching for mice,
but how a child lays
gazing into the open sky
as cloud-trains pass.
Simply watch the mind,
and eventually it will invite you in
to meet the family.
(4/2/22)
"Lipstick on a Pig"
No matter what you do in samsara
in the effort to improve samsara,
improve yourself, improve others,
it’s still samsara.
All effort, all improvement, never leaves the wheel,
but that doesn’t mean there’s only the wheel.
The wheel is what spins, ever-changing,
the embodiment of impermanence,
but what it spins in
spins around,
spins for,
is another story altogether.
(8/19/23)
"In Praise of Mindlessness"
I’ve sought and found mindlessness in a variety of ways
From dancing to climbing, meditating and painting,
but in retirement I find it easiest mowing the arboretum.
As I weave in and out of the randomly placed trees and shrubs
and regularly spaced irrigation pipes
I seek the novel and fresh at every turn.
It’s best when I find it
unexpectedly zipping off in a new direction
exploring new pathways, carving new patterns.
In these moments there is a rush
as the spontaneous surprises me, creativity takes hold,
and I can’t help but ride the moment.
I’ve spent years aiming for this moment on a cushion
and find poetic justice
in the fact it is at last as easy as pie in retirement.
Of course it’s not true mindlessness
after that initial spontaneous instant.
I have to make sure I don’t drive over anything.
But random is always an option,
and eagerly seeking it leads me to fall, or in this case, drive
into spontaneous mindlessness again, and again.
.
The joy that accompanies the mindless
is what interests me most.
It’s a self-contained joy that feeds on and for itself.
The German word, ‘funktionslust’ describes it best.
The joy an animal gets doing what it’s meant to do
which of course means it just gets better at doing it.
This is how birds learn to fly and primates climb,
how yogis become accomplished doing nothing and going nowhere,
and how lazy old men get the lawn mowed, with effortless joy.
(9/2/23)
"The Heart of the Matter"
What is it that really matters?
Is it finding the answers to the big questions,
- finding our place in the cosmology of it all -
Or is it something else entirely,
Something more personal and immediate,
Something of the heart and not the head?
I’ll leave it at that.
(1/7/24)
"Not My Battle"
It’s not my battle
Not my hill to die on
Or claim as king.
I’d rather just sit peacefully
On some lonely mountain
Enjoying the sounds of silence.
Sure I can see the dust rise
And hear occasional horns blow
Of the little battles raging far below.
But it’s not my battle
Nor hill to die on
At least not on this fine day…
(8/9/25)
"Stigmata"
Sometimes the marks of greatness
Are obvious for everyone to see
And sometimes they are so subtle
That it takes the stillness of a heart
To feel, what has always been
(10/6/25)
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