Saturday, March 30, 2013

February and into March

February 25th

This the shortest month,
though not as short as
could be

rushes to close,
leaving only

where we’ve been,
the way headed,

for now: forever
rainless skies and a brim-full moon
of patience.

…and into March…

A song for the manzanita—
five faces, one hill

When I contemplate the life-length of this mountain,
the seventy years it took me
to smell its dust
like this

do not rise
except to its reflection—we together
or not at all,
not at all ever alone.


“Stars,” for us,
but traces, really,
of what stars really are.


Waking in the night
from dreams of frost covered hills—
the sheen of moonlight.


Study, paperwork,
a walk and early planting.

And while standing in the kitchen
before evening chanting,

my life spreads clean
as the counter-top before me,

at my ankles. 


Buddhist contemplative…

No blame. We simply
get it wrong, and are carried
along just the same.


Light inside, dark out,
making mirrored images
where once was window.


Schooley 3/2/13

On the slopes in the sun
amidst the manzanita, he says:

“I bow to the mountain.”


Every thought, same story—like
streams in the darkened sky, trails
of ever thinning light,

precarious blessings,
angels’ exhales,
warmed whispers

on bared fingers,
in the night.


Zuiken Sensei

That cigarette-smoking old man
studied dharma a life-time
or more. Or more.

Left accrued knowledge
to the page, opted
instead for spirit.

That unencumbered
breath rising
through his own.


Low fog lifts, daylight
descends, moist leavings tracing
each step into spring.


Because blossoms’ bouquet.
Because incense burning.
Because the altar’s quiet.

Buddha’s raised hand,
beside, the silent monk,
the gladdened heart, at rest.


Spring Report—March 27th

As light lingers longer,
as sun betrays clinging chills,
your illness withers
and fades, dark winter dreams
heal in the hands of spring.

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