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COUNTING TIME
I was honored to have this recently published in Arena Magazine: A Magazine of Critical Thinking, Issue 162 from Victoria, Australia This river has for endless time flowed from the distant hills on its winding path to the waiting sea. The river has no need of clocks, cares little whether the Sun, Moon or clouds…
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ADOPTION FOR DUMMIES
There is one thing that none of the books on discovering who you are when you are adopted bother to tell you. If they did, it wouldn’t change anything, but it is a burden you assumed you’d easily bear that grows heavy with time. What they don’t warn you is that you will discover yourself,…
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ON THE FLIGHTLINE
We sit on our lanai, which the birds will tell you is the backyard of their preserve and watch the sun bid its blazing farewell to this day. The birds begin their scheduled return, ibis in groups, the self-declared top guns flying in hot and flat, only dropping their arrestor hook as the approach the…
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RISHO’S POEM 鐵笛倒吹 三十語
Have you been here – who will know? The sun and moon record your journey. What you release gathers joyously around you, what you cling to flies off on the slightest breeze, mountain and cloud enfold each other. Will you join them? A reflection on case 35 of the Iron Flute Koans
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VESPERS
The sun slowly starts it’s daily retreat, setting the thinning clouds ablaze. The birds return, ibis, egrets, anhinga and kite and even the limpkin march slowly across the lawn to the preserve that abuts our yard. They take up their perches on the trees and bushes and on the limpkin’s call begin quietly to recite…
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SELF?
There is one thing that none of the books on discovering who you are when you are adopted bother to tell you. If the did, it wouldn’t change anything, but it is a burden you assumed you’d easily bear that grows heavy with time. What they don’t warn you is that you will discover yourself,…
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TWO HAIKU
the morning dew smiles the rising sun stares deeply later a merger the egret stands fixed wishing he was a statue the rippling pond laughs
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NIL
I was honored to have this recently published in Arena Magazine: A Magazine of Critical Thinking, Issue 162 from Victoria, Australia It was supposed to be the simplest of all the numbers nestled neatly in the center of the number line. For years its logic evaded our efforts to comprehend its simplicity. It didn’t look…
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GROVE
Living in a bamboo grove, she said, is very much like living in an old house. Look up at noon, into the canopy and imagine you see rays of light piercing the ill-thatched roof. Listen to the growing winds or autumn and hear the ghosts of the old house making their way up creaking stairs.…
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LIVES
I have lived many lives, too many to count, and I remember bits and pieces of each, but not necessarily to which life this bit or that bit should attach. It is why I run them together, view them as a singularity, easier to cope even when I know it is a nice delusion. I…
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an old writer and his words 