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 damp face,
and there was no indication I
had been visited by a dog’s tongue.
I tell you this because you must
imagine how truly strange it was
for all of those dogs to meet
but a single human lost in a dream
that they couldn’t hope to comprehend.

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
have never visited,
how will you respond.
The answer is the key and you
already hold it in hand.

 


A reflection on Case 5 of the Book of Equanimity

SPECIES LOGIC

There is a logical reason
that zoos are not built
in the heart of cities
for it would be difficult
to ascertain which animals
were the exhibits and which
were the visitors, each
in their own sorts of cages.
In the end it would
not work out well
for lions and monkees
prefer to watch
intelligent life pass by
and they would clearly
very quickly grow bored.

LIVING

They sit in a small wine bar
on an out-of-the-way street
in an out-of-the-way city, she
sipping a Oregon Pinot Noir
while he is on his second
Alsatian Pinot Gris.
She asks him if he
ever thinks about death.
He peers into his wine glass,
than at her and smiles
a gentle smile, “I don’t,”
he says, “because I
have died too often already.”
She looks at him quizzically,
“What do you mean?”
“Simply that every moment
spent thinking about death
is a moment of death itself,
for I most certainly
stop living during that
contemplation, and I
prefer life in the moment
to death in the same moment,
because we both know
it will arrive sooner
than we desire or imagine.”

IN DREAMS

Late in the night
a train rolled by
through the city, a few
miles down the hill
from here, its horn
muted but still required
at crossings.
I know it appeared
in my dreams,
but I cannot tell
if it was as the heron
in flight over the lake,
or the long bearded
hiker with the oversize
backpack who wandered
down our street
and became a slat
in the fence
at the dead end.

AS THE CROW FLIES

Leaving the fields
of the countryside
for the city, it is the birds
that tell you when
the invisible boundary
has been crossed.
There are usually signs
along the roads
bolted to steel poles
but the birds know better.
In the country, birds
sing long arias to the day,
to cornstalks making
the slow green to gold transition,
of a cat chasing a field mouse
among the fruit burdened trees
of the late-summer orchard.
Crossing to the urban world
their songs grow shorter
a kirtan with a squirrel
cut off by a car horn,
the briefest prayer
to the morning sun
a tentative greeting
to a dog or cat sleeping
on a sidewalk.
We would do well
to listen to birds.

SEOUL NIGHTS

they wander

            up and down

                        cluttered streets

    alleys

            under blazing signs

                        OP.10 Nightclub

      Club Alaska

               Hesed Disco

streets taped

            with posters

                        Dancoh Discotheque

               young men flicking

                                    business cards

   cardboard confetti

                        Venturi “Coffee and Whiskey”

              neon flashing Bulgari Nigh Club

            young women

                        almost girls

                                    tight pants

              shorter skirts

                        dreaming husbands

                                    Moody Blues Rock and Country

     Radio Gaga

                           young men dreaming

            young men’s’ dreams

                                    blaring speakers

               drowning horns

                        Donna Summers wanna be’s

            kimchi and Kentucky Mash

    business men dreaming

                                    young men’s’ dreams