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WHAT’S IN A
He is fond of the name Alejandro Carlos Ernesto Rodrigo Guttierez. The fact is, he loves the name. He knows it has a certain nobility to it. It enbodies and conveys strengh and character. It is a source of pride and great satisfaction. The name makes him taller, bolder. There is so much in a…
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SHE SAID
She said that we are little more than clay to be molded by God and carved by fate and we count on nothing more than this day. It’s but a week since she has slipped away, we expect our sense of loss to abate. She said that we were little more than clay, just so…
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KEGON RETURNS TO DELUSIONS 鐵笛倒吹 語十二
If a gentle flower falls from its branch do you mourn its departure. The fool attempts to place it back in the bush, the wise one waits for another flower to appear. Each is the same flower but how will the fool become wise. A reflection on case 52 of the Iron Flute.
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NOW LISTEN UP
I read a poem today, about a cat and it reminded me, actually the memory of my last cat came to mind, that cats have an innate sense of people, that people utterly lack. It may be that cats are completely unfooled by the masks we wear, or simply that they could care less how…
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TRUE MEASURE
If you ask me the true measure of a passing moment, I will tell you it is at once invaluable, and by equal measure useless, lost in the detritus of time’s wave, now receded. Do not try and cling to it for your memory is all that is impermeable, and then only in a moment…
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TWO SEASONS (CINQUAIN)
It came without warning and much to our surpise settled in for a long visit — Summer Winter’s slow departure leaves us frozen in rage at Spring’s reluctance to appear — again
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CORSO
When my back was turned, Corso slipped away somewhere in Wisconsin silently, without protest carried off by Charon across a gasoline river. There was no bomb to announce his departure, no Queens orphanage stopped frozen in a silent moment. In the small park at the north end of Salt Lake City no one lifted a…
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FROM BEYOND
My grandmother speaks to me from time to time, in a voice that sounds remarkably like my own, but the dead borrow voices, it is so much easier than exercising their own, and there is so little need for words once they leave. She hasn’t changed all that much, still opinionated, still ready to have…
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ISAN’S TIME 鐵笛倒吹 十六
A cold day — how many other winters can you remember, how many future winters can your mind grasp? Can you hold yesterday in the palm of your hand can you wrap tomorrow around your thumb? Between the palms in gassho lies all life and being. A reflection on case 10 of the Iron Flute.
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FROM THE BEGINNING
Pangu* came by for a visit the other night. He tends to drop by uninvited. “Hate to call ahead,” he says, “it ruins the surprise.” He’s aged a bit since the last visit, and I told him he looked different. “It’s just a look. It’s the same old me, but I tend to scare people. So…
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an old writer and his words 