Writing
seeing jackrabbits
come right into the campsite
I belch, they scatter
~
infrequent raindrops
one here, now one over there
almost like weather
~
everything is damp
mosquitoes buzz in my ear
happy misery
~
a persistent rain
the wiper blades tilt and swoon
no birding today
Out camping in the Texas Hill Country until next week. It is raining today. I’m parked by the ranger’s station to leach some wifi signal. Don’t let the world go crazy without me.
birdsong erupting
from the bedroom, what on earth…
oh, the new ringtone
self entanglement
pump handles and chicken shit
the Buddha’s eyebrows
༶
femur bone trumpet
a twitchy paper tiger
blurting out mantra
༶
all the leaky pipes
the conveyor belt churning
a big production
an innocent thought
effects follow like shadows
drought and flood alike
~
karma ripening
shaping on its potter’s wheel
goblins of the night
~
conceptual frames
stacked together so neatly
this game has no end
(illustration by me, 2009)
the abode of self
is a conjurer’s magic
rabbit from a hat
~
little tornado
a twister of mental wind
mighty, roaring self
~
regard for others
so difficult for this self
clinging to itself
Photo: Pixabay
paper thin bug shells
glow like Japanese lanterns
lazy morning clouds
—
banana sunshine
time sways, metronome nipping
the heels of the hour
—
turning, returning
everywhere is almost home
long shadows, evening
broccoli noodle
Alfredo, bowl and a spoon
disappearing act
~
yaksha offering
the plight of sentient beings
dishwasher humming
~
tonight I will trap
in jars, the sneaky lightning
baited with darkness
siblings, war and peace
bellicosity and me
and baby makes three
—
protest, if you must
against missile mania
with peace in your heart
—
your own peaceful mind
foundation of the world peace
that we dream about
the open window
a piece of unfastened sky
pressed leaf in a book
it looks so easy
to slay another’s demons
nay, impossible
•
unreal, they seem real
our better angels, reborn
formerly demons
•
I’m busy peeling
Zen potatoes and counting
your three pounds of flax
