yesterday,
it was all
over.
Author Archives: Zak
the water heater went missing so the dishes are washed in cold water
i was using it
for evil
though not
intentionally.
comparing myself to twenty year olds who run four minute ten second miles
it isn’t so much
that you’ve forgotten
to lock your door,
as it is
you’ve lost the desire
to do it.
events that we are currently aware of
May
is a good month
to leave.
a pale saint in the fullness of sun
a finger
missing above
the second knuckle.
no flags just colored bits of cloth
if you learn young
to keep bound,
it can be difficult
to ever unbind
yourself.
fake brass because it costs less
some ancestors
worked hard.
a stranger brings me dressed greens and a compliment
the brake
dust makes
for a spectacular
sunrise.
headed to somewhere for some reason, i s’pose
the bright
red hat says
“USA”
on the back.
though
maybe
it says
“LISA”.
morning is thinning out and the animals still need feeding
if light
from the sun
can take
your darkness
from you,
yours
is a darkness
i have never
known.
arrowhead mountain framed by dusk
white
up against
blue.
vaults in which the inheritance of the ancestors are stored
we can all take
turns.
bird-dropped sea shells scatter along walkways and parking lots
when the snow melts
i look into the depressions
by the roadway
for crumpled bills.
silent things and things that whir
it isn’t so
complicated;
careful not to tread on anything needing rest
whether it
feels good
or
it doesn’t.
bones in the lobe
you run your hands over
your body.
night is an open eye
oils of cardamom,
spikenard,
marjoram,
on the skin.
razor sharp lines and not a single errant drip
there’s a float switch
on the pump.
a slight tang on account of its age
not much
happening
today.
segments like that of an orange except the parts do not touch each other
this is the part
where you don’t
know what to do
with the large
manila
envelope.
54C and a teaspoon of gray salt
a steel boat sells king
crab,
freshly pulled from
sea floor.
thirty minutes of crossed legs
and for a time,
it disappears.
the road that ends in trees
thirty minutes
sitting
shikantaza every morning.
attainment is non-pursuit
some say,
“they’re just making it
up”, but
if that is
the truth,
what are
the conditions
that provide for this?
knowledge is non-perception
it is
as though
she is
a leaf.