Category Archives: Poetry

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

it can take time
to cut the strings.

if sleep is
sleek
and sporadic,
another way
you can recover
is to find
a small box
made of wood.

a white cat
sometimes
appears.

we fell in love
because i had
cancer.

someone
i love
leaves me,
so
i feel
pain.

it isn’t
practice,
and then
wisdom.

the forecast
calls for snow
but what falls
is a mixture
of rain and ice.

river and tree.
wind and root.

in the morning,
just as soon as
your version
of consciousness
returns to you,
you think of it.

many miles
to walk.

not really so
interested
in signs
and symbols;
every day is
mahamudra

and when you have
thoughts
you’d like to share,
you would share them.

and with the warming,
more rain
in the rain forest.

in the morning
the shore birds float
near the shore.

the world isn’t interested
in our definitions
of “dependable”.

words like
“brutal”. words
like “innocent”.
words like “senseless”.

there isn’t really
some specific meaning
to life.

i tried to give another
support but
it was not felt as
support.

i was upset.

i save money
by keeping
the heat off.

homeland
is always
home
and always
equally foreign.

it’s humanely raised
meat,

it is
a painted door
i continually knock upon.

you don’t have to
believe
that when
it is
quiet
it is
because
it is
to be quiet.