Sādhanā

The abiding air seats
the few who knew to come

Gated hollow surrounds
them, within the gateless silence

No congregation, all path
no catechism, other than fixation
and its release

Appearance, thus
with a fetish for self-sensing
this sighted-blaze, this occult

They open into it
and touch the blossom
that cannot be fetish-kept

Sādhanā (Sanskrit) – a means to accomplishment.

Subterranean TP Blues

The toilet paper aisle is void
of anything to buy

The hoarders came like locusts
and we had to wonder why

But now we see the auctions up
on eBay rising fast

I’m down to one thin precious square
I’ll have to make it last

Stay well everyone, and for now, stay put.

Signed: Quarantined in Galveston

Book Spine Poetry

unbroken
fasting, feasting
to let a hundred summers
play it by ear
until I find you

eve
after the apple
the world at night
the way of all flesh
now and then
in such dark places
paradise burning

Love at First Sight

One brief clash with a batted lash
And in that blindered, lossless moment did I pawn
Everything to be with you: so how do you do?

And under this spell, we do so remain
For the snap of a finger, then slip and away
Before the vows can have their say

A lusty panache, drawn to eyes, and ass
I will again, and soon, give my heart away
In a peerless fraction of the live-long day

Yours truly, P.S.
My head once more is turned
To flirt is divine, is what I’ve learned

Fly By Night

A housefly caught
in the bedroom buzzes
between the two lamps, back

And forth, the cat
watching: fly has no clue
where it is, how
it got here.

Come morning, up
and out: I will buzz
around among the lamps
of my world, the cat
still watching.


photo by me, 2014

Unseemly

Words mean what I seem to think
So I insist that’s what they mean

And I seem to think that you think you know
Upon which page we think we’ve been

By turns we’ve come to disagree
At what is true and what is scheme

Now don’t let’s come to blows my friend
We’re likely in some pedant’s dream

The Tao is None of Your Business

Every moment is bundled
with a multitude of beginnings
and endings and we feel we’re right
in the middle of it.

But this locale, this fixation
is penciled in with a wink
and cannot be held, numbered
ordered, kept or used.

Gathered up, possessions
summon the negations, come
then clap, the knowns disperse
like startled pigeons.

Who can make way in all of this
without faith or handholds
when enlightenment is the activity
of no one in particular?

A tricky business
this name-dropping the Buddha.