eclipse

the world fades
as the moon slowly passes
over your soft lips

i choke
on my perfect day

renunciation is a piggy bank,
boundless love; oinking without expectation.

mind is a rambunctious puppy,
that quivers when struck

the jewel

in the silent vapor of my breath
gossamer snowflakes fell between the pines

A strange rubber ball appeared out of the nothingness.
"Put yourself in the ball," a voice said.
I did as it asked, "Allright?"
"Now, throw it!" the voice replied.

first meal

Some personal rules for silent meals:

1. Take something from each dish that is offered.
2. Take equal helpings of each dish.
3. Eat everything you take.
4. Take only what can be eaten before second helpings is passed.
5. Do not be the last one eating.

The grapes were my downfall. I figured a little sprig of grapes would be easy to get down. Not so. How naive am I at life that I have never eaten, nor am able to recognize, nor able to eat with any proficiency--seeded grapes. Those bulbous purple bastards, it took me some time to even figure out what was happening. What is this crunchy thing? There is something horrible in the grape! It slowly dawned on me. If I had not decided to eat them last, I could have paced myself, allowing time to develop a method. Too late! My frantic tongue twisted the grape against my teeth, trying to extract the cursed seed; but to no avail. Each time, the skin separated and the juicy innards clung to the seed like glue. Eventually, I resorted to shoving my fingers in my mouth (which is not something you can do subtly) and gnashing with my front teeth.

After only managing 5 or 6 grapes, I slumped back in my chair, defeated. Rules 3, 4, and 5; abandoned.

first day

We walked along the cloister.
There was a misting of rain that fell slowly.

Stopping at the Buddha Hall fountains,
the clouds that shrouded the mountain only moments ago, retreated.

Sun poured through the opening,
and a rainbow rose over the tall pines.

breakup #1

tool becomes enemy
clay soldiers march

leaflets of propaganda

drape the dead city

the chemotherapy that kills cities is itself a cancer

the time between shots
is full of tremors