HEAVEN, UTAH

We would sit around the small park
as evening made a hasty retreat
to somewhere, anywhere more lively
than Salt Lake City in the heart of summer.

We’d pass a jug of whatever was
cheapest at the state package store,
usuall Gallo this or that, and roll joints
which made their way around our circle.

The cops would drive by every once
in a while, and wave, and we’d
politely wave back and yell thanks
which brought a smile as they drove off.

In Salt Lake City, in 1969, there was
no drug problem, and you only drank
in private, or smirked at those who did
in this boring little corner of Mormon heaven.

SENBAZURU

10,000 origami cranes
floated down over Tokyo
each bearing the soul
of one gone in nature’s recent fury.
Each crane cried freely
the tears flowing into the Sumida
forming a wave that washes
back to the sea, replenishing its loss.
We, too, shed our tears
and look skyward
sad in the knowledge
that with each passing day
still more cranes
will fill the sky
more tears seep back
to the still angry sea.

WINDOW VIEW

He knew she had a special
meaning for him the first time
he saw her, from his usual seat
by the window in the diner, waiting
for his bagel and cream cheese,

and she at the table along
the window of the Starbucks across
the street, which might as well
have been an ocean, so unlikely
was either to make a crossing.

By the third time she had noticed
him, and offered a polite wave,
which he gladly returned, each
assuming it was an act of civility,
each, at least he, hoping it could be more.

He thought, briefly, about dashing
across the street and meeting her,
but he was no fan of coffee, less
by far of what Starbucks served,
and their bagels, well enough said.

So they went on with waves and nods,
until the day he looked and she
wasn’t there, and he knew she had
moved on without him, left him behind
or found a place with good coffee.

Publsihed in Mehfil, #8 August 2020
https://medium.com/mehfil/two-poems-2f60ad081ee7

SEKITO’S GREAT AND SMALL CANON 正法眼蔵 語十三

This wave touches the shore
just as it should,
that wave touches the shore
just as it should.
You may wait
an eternity
for a wave that touches
but not as it should
or you can sit
and let the waves
wash over you.


A reflection on Case 53 of the Shobogenzo (Master Dogen”s True Dharma Eye)

 

 

TRUE MEASURE

If you ask me
the true measure
of a passing moment,
I will tell you
it is at once invaluable,
and by equal measure
useless, lost in the detritus
of time’s wave, now receded.
Do not try and cling to it
for your memory is
all that is impermeable,
and then only
in a moment already
carried off by yet
another ebbing
wave of time.