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SMALL REFLECTION
It is that moment when the moonis a glaring crescent,slowly engulfed bythe impending night—when the few clouds give outtheir fading glowin the jaundiced lightof the sodium arc street lamp.It nestles the curb—at first a small bird—when touched, a twisted piece of root. I want to walk into the weed-strewnaging cemetery, stand in the shadowof the…
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PURPOSES
Life, she said, is all aboutfinding purpose not things. It was hard to argue with her,as she overwhelmed with examples. Rice filling a small bowlholds an incense stick up and catches the ashesas they fall quietly down.. A cracked plate can situnder a plant, catching any overflow from itscareful daily watering. And old fleece jacket…
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ARRHYTHMIA
Life ought be little more thanarrhythmic motion, a pathwe only want to straighten,to smooth, its natural, necessarytwists and bumps somehow,for we always see them asimpediments not momentsof joyous indecision wherethere are no wrong choicesfor each choice unfoldsa new path never trodden,never imagined or foreseen. A bird flies to where it needsto be, but for most…
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EN ROUTE
We spend so much of our livesimagining we are en route,always on the way to somewhereif often not certain where thatsomewhere might be. It seems we intensely dislikenot being in motion, not focusedon the future, the destination,never wanting to be, seemingto dread being static. Yet the irony is that we,at any given moment, arenever en…
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VICTOR
In our timeof never-ending war,punctured by the briefestlulls we now call peace,someone, someonesmore likely, will talkabout whom will bethe victor, to whomshall go the spoils.Bierce, that perpetualcynic, reminded usthat peace was a periodof cheating betweentwo periods of fighting.But no one pausesto consider thatin any war there areno true victorsonly the victimsunwillingly offered upin sacrifice to…
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WHAT WOULD YOU SAY
I am just wonderingwhat you would sayif you were calledto testify about allthat you had seen,all that had disgusted you,all that you condemnedbut did and saidnothing while it occurred.What would you sayif you had no choicebut truth, no shading,no mincing of words,just the harsh lightand you in a chairin an empty room,a disembodied voiceasking endless…
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CIRCLING
This morning as the bellsignaled the end of morning zazenthe whistling ducks took uptheir song, circling the wetlandas if inviting me to photograph them. They quickly grew bored waitingand flew off to a placeI do not know, can not imagine. Perhaps they will returnthis afternoon, circlein a duck like pose as I capturethem with the…
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BUSINESS SUITS
“What do you think is the likelihoodof success in the long run,” she asks,and I watch the fly land on my forearm,perched on hairs that barely bend under his inconsequential weight.His wings are a perpetual twitch,almost unseen, and felt only as a faintbreeze in my imagination, while a world is created, a reality collapses, a…
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EGGMAN
When I was a child . . .God, how many times have youheard something prefaced by thoseever frightening words, notscary themselves but whatpainful story they promised. When I was a child we hada milkman who broughtthe glass bottles twice a week,took the empties and envelopewith his payment from theshelf built in the walljust for deliveries.…
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PAUSE
The world ended yesterdayjust as predicted, and thenrestarted, and nothing at allseemed to change yeteverything was slightlydifferent, a little askew. I noticed it, although no onearound me detected it,went about their dayas though nothing happened. The preachers didn’t foreseeit coming, hadn’t predicted it,glad when the restart did notsignal the end of days, for theywere no…
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an old writer and his words 