September 11, 2008 at 4:56 pm (journal)
Tags: character sketch, prose
He arrives at the music store around ten-thirty and enters, not meekly,
but rather quietly, respectfully, carrying with him into the room an aura
of humility and gentle grace. He nods a greeting to the owners of the
establishment, and, at the same time, gives the implication of a wave
to his friend who stands across the room energetically guzzling his
gas-station mug of coffee.
“No class this morning?” his friend asks, the question punctuated by a noisy,
gurgling pull at the coffee mug.
“No, not until two,” replies the visitor as he turns toward the guitar effects
cabinet at the far side of the room.
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September 11, 2008 at 1:33 pm (poems)
Tags: car, formal, poems
internal
combustion
engine revs
eighteen hun-
dred per min-
ute. she growls
and groans low.
she thunders
as she rolls.
transmission
of persons
thru landscapes
fulfills her
metal and
chrome being.
gasoline
feeds her thirst;
her engine,
well oiled, is
efficient
and graceful.
treat her well
and she will
get you there
ev’ry time.
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September 11, 2008 at 1:26 pm (poems)
Tags: beer, formal, poems
sixteen ounc-
es of beer
in the fridge;
poured into
the goblet
each vessel
is fulfilled.
swallowed quick
fullness be-
comes empty.
zen practice
at its best
is alum-
inum poured
into glass
poured into
thirsty throat.
the cycle
repeats and
becomes bland.
here is where
Action be-
comes again
the simple
lightness of
Awareness
and Being.
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September 11, 2008 at 1:21 pm (poems)
Tags: cigarettes, formal, poems
cigarette
becomes dead
as we live
its essence.
suicide
cancer stick
is fulfilled
as it burns
yet unlit.
funerals
packaged for
amusement
and conceit
always fail
to convict
illusions
of being
illusions.
cigarette
essence is
quiet med-
itation.
is simple
breath. we are
cigarette
when we halt
our mental
contortions.
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September 11, 2008 at 1:16 pm (poems)
Tags: coffee, formal, poems
the cup holds
six ounces.
microwaved
forty-eight
seconds it
becomes warm.
warm enough
to quickly
be consumed.
heat fills me
and the cup
is again
wanting fuel.
each vessel
is fulfilled.
coffee cup,
microwave
and the Self.
rituals
remind us
who we are,
for we are
nothing but
what we do.
Being is
mute concept;
Action is
appreci-
able truth.
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September 10, 2008 at 2:36 pm (poems)
Tags: poems, pollution, small towns
(written in 2004)
a choking cloud of thick industrial smoke
hangs immobile and menacing
above sharp angles of concrete and steel
emanating a delirious white haze
illuminated by yellow streetlights
in the silence of a winter night.
a cloud of gaseous pale toxins
annexes a portion of pure black night
defying physics as it hovers, unmoving,
refusing to dissipate or rise,
abusing the calm vision
of a small-town skyline.
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September 10, 2008 at 2:03 pm (poems)
Tags: call and response, cigarettes, poems, poets
“butts”
cigarette butts
piled in an ashtray
like diseased tree trunks
congregated in a lunar crater
yellow-brown cylinders
of fiberglass and paper
toppled upon each other
in a puddle of gray dust.
the degree of lust
i hold for these monstrosities
is the epitome
of irrationality.
“The Process”
It is the process
not the outcome
THE MOMENT
not the future
which you cherish and enjoy.
It is the effect
not the flavor
the attitude
not the costs
which you crave.
So smoke `em if you got `em!
Just know why you do it.
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September 10, 2008 at 1:44 pm (poems)
Tags: birds, nature, poems, poets, zen
in the shade
of looming evergreens,
in the midst
of September’s last long
beautiful day,
under the calming gaze
of the Creator
are two creatures
with hands wrapped in unity,
two humans filled with the bliss
that is found in the caw –
in the screech –
in the hollow-reed tender song
of birds.
(locale of this poem is Butler Rock, near Twin Bridge, WI)
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September 10, 2008 at 1:36 pm (poems)
Tags: interbeing, poems, poets, Taoism
|
|
(for everyone)
my peculiar vision
and mannerisms of self-mythology
manifest themselves in fitful melancholy routine
straining toward unformed unknowable joy
fretting and frowning over contrived troubles
shining muted hope with unsettled contentment
yearning to break free
into wide open space
of unfettered glee.
subliminal happiness is
buried beneath volcanic strata
of constricting external pressures.
convention and conformity
crush liberty of ideal mind.
supposed knowledge defines limitation
and eyes burn thru the shadows of time
seeing a glimmer of purity
beyond the shackles of mankind
beyond the physical realm
of possession, attainment, and pride.
my individuality
recognizes ubiquitous dual forces
that divide mind from mind,
mind from self,
and self from other.
my weaving path winds and twists
upon itself, resolving into one
straight line of sight
as i walk forward, determined
and alone.
wanting to bring you with me,
i strain to understand
we are but parts
of the same being.
|
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September 6, 2008 at 3:53 pm (poems)
Tags: coffee, guitars, poems, poets, soda
i’m at work
at my brother’s music store,
learning the business
for zero pay.
but quickly
it has devolved into
what i call
the standing around club.
tough work,
watching him sell guitars
and sheet music
and shooting the breeze
with the peanut gallery
while i type out today’s second ditty.
the first was written over coffee
at home
but here it’s dew
and a slew of young men
living the life of teenage boys
who still dream of
rock stardom.
young women also come in,
in search of the next lessonbook
and the next sideways glance
at tomorrow’s object of obsession.
now someone starts shredding
and the rhythm of this spell
is broken.
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