Author Archives: Zak

when the snow melts
i look into the depressions
by the roadway
for crumpled bills.

it isn’t so
complicated;

whether it
feels good
or
it doesn’t.

you run your hands over
your body.

oils of cardamom,
spikenard,
marjoram,
on the skin.

there’s a float switch
on the pump.

not much
happening
today.

this is the part
where you don’t
know what to do
with the large
manila
envelope.

a steel boat sells king
crab,
freshly pulled from
sea floor.

and for a time,
it disappears.

thirty minutes
sitting
shikantaza every morning.

some say,
“they’re just making it
up”, but
if that is
the truth,
what are
the conditions
that provide for this?

it is
as though
she is
a leaf.

the key
is in my pocket.
when i touch
the handle of the door,
it unlocks.

sitting
inside
a parked car
on a public street
outside
a small city park.

the sky clears,
the sun rises,
the temperature falls.

you always keep
your phone
on silent,

there aren’t any
others
just like you.

there are a
few hundred thousand
others
just like you.

woodsmoke
hangs low
and blue.

i could not
practice law
as all i can
manage
is, should
something
be done,
or
shouldn’t it.

steam streams
from the warming
wood.

every day
you wake up,

the air smells
of local burning.

massive slabs
of stone.

in the morning
you warm up
last night’s tea.