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EYES HAVE IT
It is the eyes that fall in love,the heart that follows likean always faithful shadow,and the mind and reason thatare bound to darkness and silence. That is what I learned in my dreamlast night, or my recollection of it, for dreamsmay fade in the sharp light of morning. But dreams have a potent magic, a…
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ABIDING
The dawning sun brings forth the birds’morning chorus, their song glidesthrough the windows, no wordsare needed, their meaning heardand through it all, morning simply abides. We are left to shelter within, to girdourselves against the unseen tidethat has washed over us undeterred,rendered all once normal absurdand through it all, morning simply abides. We cannot change…
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THE SUN ROSE
The sun rose this morning,as if the day were not in anyway out of the ordinary, daynumber far too large to countfor those with finite capacity. The birds begin, their harmoniouscacophony, though they thinkit their lauds, matins of reflectionburned off with the dew underthe gentle glare of a morning sun. They watch us begin to…
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INTIMATIONS OF MORTALITY
It is easier to think about deathon a wintery evening, when so muchof life slips into stasis, and there isnothing to do but concede your mortality,and with good fortune, then slipinto sleep before being lostin a sea of depression. I must be thankful for my dreamsfor they keep the night from becomingthe little death of…
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ON ARRIVAL
This morning arrivedwith a painful slowness, the slothof irregular dreams refusing to concedeto the light struggling to creep aroundthe blinds that hide the oversize windows. It had been that sort of night,sleep arriving and departing witha frustrating lack of constancy, my bodyuncertain of its proper placement ,the mattress offering no easy solutions. Conceding the failure…
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DIG IT
He started digging early in the morning,and hoped that by lunch, he’d be wellon his way there, though he wasn’t certainhow he’d get up out of the holewhen lunch rolled around, but needis a good instructor, so he was surehe could figure it out easily enough.It was slower going than he imagined,slower by several magnitudes.He…
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MIRRORS
Each morning I drag myselffrom bed, slowly engage my legs,and amble into the bathroomwhere I peer into the mirror.Each morning I am surprisedthat I am the same as I wasthey day before, and yet the mirrorby all appearances,has grown another day older.It is, I suppose, the natureof mirrors to age, sadly for them,and as I…
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TUESDAY TRUTH: BROTHER JOHN
Are you serious? You have the temerity to ask me if I am sleeping? Seriously? If, for a moment, you thought that I was sleeping, why in hell would you jostle me and then ask me if I was sleeping? And how many times do I have to tell you that I never liked the…
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KEMBO’S TRANSMIGRATION 鐵笛倒吹 六十七
Awakening in the morning when you first see the sun and the dew resting on the leaf which eye are you using. When you stare into the mirror through what eye do you see, and what eyes stare back at you. When you see the deer lying in the road which eye do you use.…
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BROKEN DAY
Morning slowly encroaches on your dreams, eroding images despite your tightening grasp. Clear lines blur, become hazy and dissipate bleached by the first light creeping around the shades. The dreams do not care for they will arise again when they choose and this is for them a mere inconvenience. You are the loser here for…
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an old writer and his words 