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ADIOS, ARRIVADERCI, SO LONG
As he grew ever older he saidhe wanted a sudden unanticipated death,“In my sleep preferably” he addedwith an unmeant chuckle. It would be a good way to go,I imagine, but it denies thosewho will most mourn his passingthe chance to hope for a miracle. And no matter when it happens,if it is sudden it will…
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LEAD ME NOT
Strange as it may seem,I was tempted to considerCatholicism, not the Roman kindbut that of the breakawy churcheswho accept all, gay or straight,married or divorced, the wholelot of mankind just because. They do believe in heavenwhich is a good alternativeto the Bardo, and having choicesis a good thing even in death. I was truly tempted…
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AN AVIAN MESSAGE
The birds departed one morning which we believe may be how they express displeasure, although the destruction of the nests and the death of the children by predators may have had something to do with the departure. We wait patiently for their return, the wetland still dry, but we hope with the wet season that…
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DŌGO WON’T SAY 正法眼蔵 二十九
I am the lifeof a hundred million others,you are the lifeof a hundred million others,a hundred million othersare my life, a hundred millionothers arise from my death.How many hundred millionare the same?None of them will say. A reflection on Case 29 of the Shobogenzo (Dogen’s True Dharma Eye) Koans
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THEM, AGAIN
They say that you shouldnever approach or toucha small bird, lest it he shunned,perhaps to death, by your scent. I’ve never been one to listento any “them” with whom Icannot argue face to face,and so seeing the small bird on the ground curledin its nest, staring upat the branch from whichshe parachuted groundward I scoop…
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RECYCLED NEWS
The newspapers pile up,their headlines screamout, sections of business newsor the arts, and a halfcompleted crossword., They sit patiently, knowingmuch has happened that weought to know, but wehave grown tired of deathand so each week we place them in the binwhere they are takento the dump wherethe lessons of the newsgo to die forgotten.
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UNDERTAKER
Two turkey vulturessit on the branchesof a barrenwetland tree,looking down. We stare at them,not wantingto think aboutwhat they stare at,for we understandturkey vultures. They are soonchased off byboat-tailed grackleswho we thankfor releasing usfrom the funeral.
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STATISTIC
Today, now many,yesterday, tomorrow, how many? We have grown tired of countingthe mind cannot deal with numbersof that magnitude, Stalin was correct,it is all statistics now, and bodies,always more bodies, never enough,always too many, by violencein the street, in the economy,in the courthouse, in the COVID ward,there are too many places now,where the dead gather,…
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THE HOUSE ON PEABODY
It was brick, red I am told.on a quiet street not farfrom 16th Street and its traffic.It was small, but a good homefor a couple with a child or twoin the heart of the District. I have no recollection of it,save the tile, black and whitein the bathroom, the radiatoron which I hit my head,and…
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A PRAYER UNANSWERED
When I was a child, a Rabbi told methat I did have the ability,to be used sparingly always,to petition God for some good. I filed this away with other storiesfrom the Torah, pillars of salt,stone tablets, a flood worse thanthe one that filled our basement. At some point I needed something,recollections are fortunately vaguenow, and…
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an old writer and his words 