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THE COLOR OF BEAUTY
They sat on the bench in the park looking out on the small lake, two ducks swimming slowly in circles. “Dawn is the most beautiful moment of the day, the sun chasing the moon and setting the sky ablaze, orange, crimson, flame, there is simply nothing,” he said, “in the world quite like it.” “It…
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EOS
Tomorrow the morning will arrive as it always does, eating the last vestiges of night, painting the sky in puce and crimson. It will foretell the rain that will carry our dreams down the hill and into storm sewers, eventually to wash into the lake. But in that moment when the sky is ablaze, none…
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BURDEN OF WINTER
On this one a taste clinging gingerly, on this one clumps, here a variegated blanket. Each tree bears the burden of winter in its own way.
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THE BEAUTY OF DREAMS
The beauty of dreams is the plasticity of the mind when it passes the margin into sleep. As the new reality takes hold places and people are allowed to morph, the subconscious becomes sculptor, creating what never was from what is, writing the script, editing it, and all in real-time, the last act to be…
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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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TO BE, OR
The beauty and the difficulty of being in the moment is the realization that there is no moment in which to be. When you ask what time it is, I can only answer by referring to what time it is not, for time must be relative to that which no longer exists, or has yet…
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ONE FLAVOR ZEN
How far must you wander to taste the pure essence, hear the pure note, see deeply into beauty, smell the first flower of spring, touch another heart? Will you grow tired from standing still in total silence contemplating this? A reflection on Shobogenzo Case 65 (Dogen’s True Dharma Eye)
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BORROWED LIGHT
The gray, velvet curtain of clouds parted ever so briefly last night revealing a moon, growing more full of herself, as she peered out. I was there to see her, the form of smile shared between us despite the chill of the too winter-like spring. This morning the sad drooping daffodils said they saw her…
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THREE HAIKU
an entire flower and a single rose petal duplicate beauty a whole universe exists in a drop of dew life evaporates two crested ducks pay no attention to people offering nothing
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AWAITING THE WAVES
“Describe yourself,” she said “that I might capture you if only for this moment a footprint left once you have departed this place and time.” I am, I should think, biologically plausible though straining the bounds of reason once and again. I tend to philosophic androgyny hovering on the fulcrum of paradox. I am the…
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an old writer and his words 