etcetera

found my watch today, after several days 

missing, time taken with it, leaving me

well, me left behind, timeless 

and free, you’d think

but for that empty wrist, bothered

to raising itself toward my eyes

time and again chasing time

simply no longer there, simply lost

so i’ll have to admit, it feels good 

to have it back, them back, or 

to be back with them

for as limited as time may be

it feels good to be taken in 

again, to be here 

to be, now

to be me

**

bitter-sweet, the tang of knowing dust

left where it lies, better to see

where we’ve been 

latent flavors rekindling taste

**

kubose sensei

when years ago we met in the temple

in chicago, close to elevated tracks

arrived late, a portrait of his teacher

hanging on the hondo wall

he spoke of the movements of his

even then long life 

each preceded by someone asking

he was fortunate

he said

**

life itself, the big screen, asks

all the right questions, like them or not

leaves open options for advisement for

the questions that follow—answers

are not so much touch-stones 

to stem the flow, as buoyed branches

passing to show the flow

will hold you

**

“if you don’t speak up, we can’t hear you”

            jim james, singer, song-writer

**

tuesday the 26th of the month

of september, darkened mornings

quickening sunsets

a book somewhere closes 

as words’ pours to the page 

loosen their hold

and

**

less than a week back, in groves

of bristlecone pine, high-desert trunks

multiple millions of years of bulked 

and twisted rings

as quiet, as unobtrusive as 

evening’s snow-dust fall

to bare face skin 

and graveled ground 

all alike, never to be repeated

ever again

**

to return to doctrine too long after

the fact 

is like tracking back

once favored boots now too tight 

for the longer haul

open sky calls for differing resource

yet seminal music

melodies pathways

familiar, nighttime 

or day

**

the sun slips below the ridge

leaving adrift the chill held secret  

on drafts held still 

before the fire-faced gift 

known to us only in shadow

gratitude 

lingered among the thoughts 

of years of varied teachers

the heart 

pressing thorough through

with trust