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TIME’S ARROW CURSED
He will be 90 in a few weeks. He doesn’t think this is possible. He says he wasn’t supposed to live this long. He asks again how old he is. You’re still 89, I tell him. He has a relieved look on his face. Then he smiles at me, says, that means you are…
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LOST IN A DREAM
In my dream last night, I was lost in a city of mostly dogs, but what was odd is that they were all standard poodles who only wanted to lick my hand and cheek. I tell you this not because the dream was unusual, it was in fact rather mundane. I didn’t awaken with a…
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OF BEAUTY
We love the flower, more so if it adopts the brighter shades of nature’s palette, and even tolerate the fern, but only if it truly honors the greens it is supposed to bear and unfurl. We save our spite for the fungus which reaches up to us with surprising haste, nothing this day, fully formed…
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TEMPUS IN A TEAPOT
If you’ve been paying attention, you already know that I have always hated Latin, and not merely because I never took it, but because I grew tired of being told to seize the day. It wasn’t like I could put a leash on it – time tends not to remain static, and since it has…
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HAWKING AUTUMN
The hawks have been circling more frequently of late, but in the early autumn laziness of merely riding the breezes that seem to pick up in the mornings, before the midday sun bids them be calm so it can make its transit. By afternoon, they tend to roost high up in the giant pines,…
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SEIGAN’S COST OF RICE
The search will be endless the answer at once obvious and incapable of being found. You seek direction to it, certain the right teacher holds the key to the critical gate, inside which all of the Dharma sits waiting for you. If the teacher asks you how many people live in a distant city you…
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FLYING TIME
She said, “the saddest thing of all is time. We spend so much of it trying to insure we know exactly what time it is, that it gets away from us and is gone long before we get around to using it.” He said, “but it’s important to know what time it is, in case…
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WALKING THE WIRE
There is a precarious balance we spend much of life attempting to maintain. It is like the invisible border between day and night dream and forgetting and we walk the wire along the precipice awaiting the arrival of the sun so that we can bid farewell to the dark places in which our dreams hide.
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TOMORROW
As night settles over our house we slip beneath the blanket and imagine the day to come in all of its promise. By morning, reality will set in and I will awake to a day reliant on us to set its course, a captain with no chart and only hope and compassion to steer us…
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BITCH
She’s a real bitch, that one, and there is no telling her anything, at least anything she doesn’t want to hear. And to make matters worse still, she can be so damn alluring, and you know when she turns it on you are hopeless to do anything other than fall hard and fast under her spell.…
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an old writer and his words 