Haibun 102

oracles and wishing wells

you see a lot of things if you live long enough. the politicians come and go. never saw a single one i felt i could trust. plans for liberty equality and fraternity fade into mindlessness destruction. but it does not get me down anymore. living life is so much more fun. it is just up to me and the rest of the universe to come to terms with my beating heart. engendering smiles and giving frowns only the briefest of moments. if you can just leave off the nonsense happening all around you then your ‘safe space’ just moves with you through the day. dragging the sun into the lives of others. been doing this a long time now and just sitting quietly watching the dust sparkles in the sunlight is more than i will ever need. i pet my cat and save the elephants of india and africa. enjoying the worldly nature of a hummingbird staring at me staring at him.

walk in the woods
holding my shadow
like a lover

Haibun 101

dont get up i am just passing through

wondering. still wondering. wondering more. just a little more wonder and my can of wonder will be empty.

as the pond settles
up pops
buddhas reflection

Haibun 100

encounter within a poem

weird as it may seem my own thoughts are often very startling to me. sometimes they scare me. other times they make me aware of my own abilities. my singing bowl cant carry a tune today so filled it is with my thoughts. i think we neither fear nor appreciate our own thoughts the way we should. they just breeze past us and we fail to experience them. my singing bowl cant carry a tune today so filled it is with my thoughts. i refuse to fear dying. since i have no data to base any fear on. i mean i am typing this right now and that is not dying. or at least i dont ‘think’ it is. poetry gives thoughts their own experience i believe. my singing bowl cant carry a tune today so filled it is with my thoughts.

spring snowstorm
every path becomes
a meditation bell

Haibun 99

thumbprints on a mala

nothing can replace the peace we provide ourselves. dont get me wrong i love people. well almost all people. the tools of seasons from humankind and nature all come together. if we will just get out of the way.

i sing
a mantra
of blooming jasmine

Haibun 97

hoagy carmichael blues

‘kicking old buddhas gong’. that was slang for smoking opium in the thirties and forties. where did that come from i think to myself. was buddha a drug addict. not by a long shot. jazz was fed and grew up on dope though. but the best of them never partook or shook it off in the end. many of those that could not move back from drugs were lost to us. funny that the seduction of music led so many to lose themselves in it. when i went straight edge and cleaned up the real meanings came through to me. the long handwriting on the sheet music of my life stopped being blurred.

simple
but with a loud wail
baby wakes to a jazz tune