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HAIKU TWO TANKA
A clouded night sky hide and seek moon chases squirrels Rain holds back In deep laughter Wind whispers trees sigh in response Morning awakens A heron poses standing on a single leg We watch jealously
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INTO THE SOIL
When did we stop being of the soil and begin to fear it, to tell our children not to touch the ground, it is dirty when once it was only dirt, and we put it in our mouths, from time to time trying to drive our mothers crazy. She says if you are going to…
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DACHAIGH
Even when I was briefly in Edinburgh I dreamed of walking the streets of Lisbon or Porto, looking into the faces of older men and wondering if this one was my father, the one I had never seen, never known. the one my Jewish mother described in detail to the social worker who took me…
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ERR GO
There is a reason for all things and therefore there is a reason for this although we cannot begin to fathom what that reason could possibly be, which should be reason enough, for reason has a twisted soul: now playful, now angry, now vengeful in irregular turns without warning. The problem with seeking the reason…
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UNTO TARSHISH
In this place there is a fatted, sacrificial silence. It is the large Jewish Cemetery nestling the road where Maryland and the District are loosely stitched together. It is a small plot goldenrod dirt outskirting Lisbon. This ground is sacred not for the blessing of one who has taken the tallit of holiness. The sanctity…
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WITH A CAUSE
She says if you could only peel back the photograph, you could read the entire story that lies beneath. It is deeper than the image below which it lies trapped, and wider, imbued with a meaning the image could not capture, just as, she says frowning, there are no words for parts of the picture,…
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MY REFUGE
This poem appeared in the March, 2019 edition of Bluestem Magazine. You can find this and other great writing here: http://bluestemmagazine.com/ For many years, L was my refuge, when I grew tired of being the butt of an endless stream of fatty jokes. I could find some solace in H or F, but L was…
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UNGAN’S SWEEPS THE GROUND
As you stoop to pick up fallen leaves are you cleaning spring, summer or autumn? What seasons are deep within the winter branch? How does your work and that of the tree truly differ, and what leaves do you shed? A reflection on case 83 of the Shobogenzo (Dogen’s True Dharma Eye)
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DHARMA GATE
He sits, suited in black, with 88 keys at his command, and we fall silent. He opens the lock of joy, the lock of sadness, the lock of elation, the lock of tears, the lock of laughter, the lock of darkness, the lock of light, the lock of surprise, the lock of compassion, the lock…
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MUSHOTOKU
We spend far too much time clinging to what was as the flames fade, and far too little time feeding the fire and grasping what could be.
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an old writer and his words 