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NANSEN’S NOTHING SPECIAL
Her greetingis met with silence.His greetingis met with silence.Your touchis met with greeting.You want to fly,curse the Earthfor holding you,while it is your mindthat is youronly anchor. A reflection on case 87 of the Shobogenzo, Dogen’s True Dharma Eye Koans
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ANGLE OF INCIDENCE
Dusk reflects dawn much asdawn reflects dusk, and it isour fear of night and deep needfor direction that sets them apart. Imagine a photograph of the sunhovering just over the horizon,compass-less we do not knowwhat preceded, what will follow. We prefer day and dawn, forit is then we feel in control,our thoughts leashed, our fearslocked…
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A CAPPING VERSE
Snow always seemed so rightcapping the summit of Fujiyama,not dulled by the windowsof the Shinkansen to Osaka. You barely noticed the rice fieldsfanning out from its basewanted to reach out and touch itfor that is what you do with icons. Mount Hood had the same effectbut the chill along the Willametteurged you to retreat quickly…
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IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES
It is all well and good to believethat you will know it when you find it,that it will be so obvious you could not miss it. You’ve been down that road before,and on several occasions were certainthat you’d found it in her face, or hers,in her smile, or her laugh, or oneof their soft touches…
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SENSELESS
You place the shroudover my head,it is dark, but Ican still touch her cheek. You cut offmy fingers, leavingonly stumps, but Ican still taste her tears. You pull outmy tongue, there isonly bitterness, but Ican hear her morning laugh. You drown mein a sea of noisenothing breaks the din, but Ismell her sweetness. You fill…
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TRAVEL THOUGHTS 2
In the City of Chicagoit appears to the visitorthat the expresswaysand most of the city streetswere paved by a blind manwith a rather poor sense of touch. First Appeared in Exquisite Corpse, Vol. 7, No. 10-12, October-December 1989.
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TOUCH
I would reach out in touch you but as it is my fingers barely reach the keyboard. I would take your picture the next time I see you, but it would appear instantly, no waiting for someone to tell me as you were merely a blurred image appearing days later pulled from an envelope. Perhaps…
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DEMONS
In the night there are no demons just the sound of your breathing soft, as your touch on my back, your foot against my calf.
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NAMASTE
If you stare at it very closely and carefully you will soon see that deep within it there is silence. You may take it with you, it will go along willingly, but if only you don’t try and grasp it. It is soft to the touch, certainly, and has a sweetness that settles gently into…
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ROAD TRIP
Two nights gone and sleep has come fitfully, and I stir each time I reach across the bed and you aren’t there, and there is only the faintest smell of bleach and cleaning solvent. I want very much to dream of you, to trace your cheek with dream fingers, to taste your lips on mine,…
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an old writer and his words 