Tuesday, December 10, 2013

A Violin Concerto

After an absence
it is played,
the first few notes drawing
from me an ache
at once new and familiar,
silently playing all these years.

Mendelssohn Violin Concerto

Friday, November 29, 2013


A walk at dusk, Thanksgiving Day 

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

I am not insensible
to the light passing
through whitened slats at evensong
heavy-hearted as I am.

Sunday, November 17, 2013


In the melding of mind
and light
endlessly rippling
in concert with the setting sun
hope renews itself.

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Late October

Through the hedge
autumnal and green
I catch a glimpse
of my true self.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013


They shimmied in unison
the leaves of early fall
made ever more lucent
by a sympathetic gaze.

Saturday, September 7, 2013

The Weed

Throughout summer
and in the ebbing song of the crickets
it persists
pressing itself against the window
vaulting over the evergreens
the gift of its blooms for the asking.

Sunday, August 25, 2013


I sit with my thoughts,
permutations of the familiar,
contentedly inchoate.

Tuesday, July 30, 2013


There is the kind that stultifies,
but also the kind that soothes
through the mindful tending to a ritual.

Wednesday, July 24, 2013


On occasion you will see
that splash of orange,
a daylily, present all along,
different enough from the rest
to be the creation of a new way.

Sunday, July 21, 2013

invoking the self-state
that you need
at a given moment

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

After the Rain

I can finally hear the songbirds'
distant warbling
and the trail of sound an airplane makes.

The dark skies of noon have lifted
and in its wake, rain
heavy on the dark green leaves
capturing the moment
when an eight-year-old joins the present.

Tuesday, June 25, 2013


Continually we are poised
between the solace of words
and the uncertainty of action
sitting with our teacups
while marveling at the fluttering white butterflies.

Saturday, June 15, 2013


In the lapse of downtown traffic
I hear a birdsong
cadence by cadence carrying a past
of cyclos whirling in dust and heat
merging then returning to the scratch of my pen.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Sir Senescence

In the savannah of mice
stretching across your flickering eyelids
a tail is a scepter
and your reign is complete.

In the seventeenth year of life
"Sir Senescence" becomes an endearment
bestowed upon a familiar form
and that gaze of emerald constancy
forever burnishing my heart.

Monday, May 27, 2013

The View

To reach the view that will change the present
I go through the suburban streets
having little to do with the shimmer
of lake and leaves
that has yet to fail me
now or then.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

A Bee in Early Afternoon

Zigzagging through air
he is assured in each movement
whether it's his own
buoyancy in the light
or the certainty that the light will shift.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013


Returning from sickness
through corridors that arbitrate "you go down that way"
not all having to do with the size of some lymph nodes
nor the redness of a throat
but more to do with the wonder I feel
at seeing a budding maple on a gray afternoon.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013


To be soaked unstintingly
in dun
or iridescence
and to not know from one moment to the next
the hues that will come.

Sunday, March 31, 2013


There is a world of unwashed dishes
and a well-used breakfast nook
holding onto its sunlight over morning tea.

In parallel are the half-forgotten fragments
now tended by the undusted self.

Sunday, March 24, 2013


In an embrace where you and I
shift endlessly in a timeless blur
I can no longer feel the difference between receiving and giving.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013


In the first round of hearing,
like the words caregiver, provider,
it rolls off the tongue with the usual blandness.

But in truths that come from dreams,
self-states that seem alien to one another
can finally conjoin as one.

Sunday, March 10, 2013


They meet in a tangle
in skeins that on a rare occasion
I could trace to a provenance
hidden but never gone
giving rise in a bed of uncertainty
to a new way of seeing.

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Drinking Li Shan on an overcast morning

Always be a poet, even in prose.
-Charles Baudelaire

Sunday, February 17, 2013

The Unnamed

The words are there:
rage, shame, potency.

They circle in a nebula
attaching themselves to the vagaries of our days,
unwitting and unwritten,
waiting to be named.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

New Pair of Glasses

Its frames have the color of Smokey the cat
resting intimately between eyes
that see anew the same teacup
mottled with a chipped rim
like the perceived and the perceiver
each in a light of their co-creation.

Sunday, February 10, 2013


My thoughts meander in a repetitive way
and occasionally a shift in them
would tell me that the soil
lies not completely fallow.
Teeth of the plow rumpling a little
while I feel again that familiar ripple.

Sunday, February 3, 2013


I return to the breath, to the steeped leaves, and all is as it should be.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Tea in Madison

matcha at macha tea lounge

Da Hong Pao oolong at Dobra Teahouse

Drink your tea slowly and reverently, as if it is the axis on which the world earth revolves - slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future.  Live the actual moment. Only this moment is life.

-Thich Nhat Hanh

Saturday, January 5, 2013

this morning

a bowl of matcha
zazen with cats
a poem