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COLORS
We hunted him as a trophy stag across his fields. We called him red man, color of Ares, gods sacrificed on our altar. His rivers run with his spirit. I am white bereft of color, barren, a glare, a dessert stripped of life. It is I who wears Cain’s mark, plucked from the garden the…
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SEPPO’S PUNCTUALITY 鐵笛倒吹 二十六
You ask me how I know when to begin my sitting so it will be the right time. It is easy to watch the sun and stars for they clearly know. You ask what I do when the sky is black with impenetrable clouds, it is easy to watch the clouds. Water from the stream…
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AMONG THE MISSING
We can sit for a time, and speak of our pains, how they cause us to stop and look inward while the world proceeds on it’s axis, in a slow march through time and space, and we share the anger and anguish of our too fallible bodies which time reclaims in slow progression. We do…
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PIQUE
One of these days soon the sun will again get angry, will blow off steam and all manner of signals will get the message loud if not clearly. The sun can get away with it and we accept it, if not willingly but begrudgingly. When we blow off such steam cities melt, and the angry…
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MINNESOTA
The night fully settles over northern Minnesota in the sky grows dark as the stars make their reluctant appearance. Peering through the tall grasses of the wetlands abutting the road 1000 stars are born and die in an instant only to be reborn again repeatedly, until they are replaced by the beetles that accompany the…
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MEDITATION
A wise Buddhist teacher once told me that anything you do, if you do it mindfully, can be a form of meditation, and I have taken this into my practice, albeit with mixed success, but that is one reason they call it practice. Walking silently, following your breath in and out, aware of your feet,…
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SUMMER SONGS
the dangling green orbs hang beneath the verdant leaves dreaming of summer. sweat rolls down my back the noon sun stares angrily forgotten winter evening sky darkens is it the approach of night or simple summer rain?
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MOURNING
You never know how the news will arrive you are just certain of its arrival. You know it on some level, even as the event is happening, but that doesn’t blunt the piercing tip of the blade that finds the soft spot in you and cuts deeply. You hoped for a miracle for her, for…
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COUNTING TIME
I was honored to have this recently published in Arena Magazine: A Magazine of Critical Thinking, Issue 162 from Victoria, Australia This river has for endless time flowed from the distant hills on its winding path to the waiting sea. The river has no need of clocks, cares little whether the Sun, Moon or clouds…
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RISHO’S POEM 鐵笛倒吹 三十語
Have you been here – who will know? The sun and moon record your journey. What you release gathers joyously around you, what you cling to flies off on the slightest breeze, mountain and cloud enfold each other. Will you join them? A reflection on case 35 of the Iron Flute Koans
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an old writer and his words 