All day my eyes ache
from reading student essays:
Flowers grow so slow.
(October 11, 2019)
Garden
Category: meditation
a fatigue of consciousness
to erase presence,
blend into dust
dancing in sunlight;
or, to be aware,
beware, constantly
of the eternal now
is not a choice
between happiness
and a lived life,
nor, life and death
for that matter,
but compromise:
to watch the sunrise,
to see the sunrise,
despite the sunrise.
(October 10, 2019)
Fall
Brown tinges on green
grass like light dancing on wind;
I’m no longer young.
(October 9, 2019)
Up Before Dawn
The house’s silence
echoes the darkness outside.
A wind chime rings once.
(October 8, 2019)
Refraction
The mirror’s a mask
for who I think I am;
How long have I been gone?
Where did I go?
The man I see is worn
and fragile, skin dry,
wrinkled; eyes deep
with dark half-moons
floating below them
like shadows on water.
I am not who I am,
yet more than an echo.
the mirror’s a mask
for what I have become.
(September 5, 2019)
Last Memory of my Parents Alive
his breath
like a sigh
or prayer
*
be sweet
her whispered
life’s summation
(August 30, 2019)
Zen Monkey
falls from branch
to branch to
tail to hand
to foot to
ground then
walks away
fruit in hand
(August 30, 2019)
