A Chipper Monk

Chipmunk on the hillside.

Perhaps Spring greetings

or conversation with a friend.

The Road Between

Sometimes all there is to do is drive

and drive, and drive, and drive until

you forget to where you’re going,

you forget from where you came,

and you remember there’s no difference

except the road which lies between.

And when you don’t got the wheels

or means or place to stay

you walk, and walk, and walk until

it all makes sense enough to go away.

And you remember not to worry so much

as in all walks of eternity

you’re a part of this one, and the heartache

pain and blame is all just slapstick.

It’s a grand ole comedy of magic and men

who’d drown before they’d ever dive in.

So the next time I, see-you-me,

I hope we’re swimming in the Milky Way!

Travelers through time and time forgot,

our elephant minds remember.

The Other Type Of Feeling

You know that feeling?

The excitement you get when you see someone

And that someone’s a stranger

A stranger creeping up on the ground itself

Cautious and casual as not to disturb the air

And they think they’re not being watched

Yet secretly hoping that they are, because

What they’re creeping towards, they believe

Is gold, mercury, or an ancient artifact

An artifact no one but them has discovered

Or ever will—first—in their own time,

And in that moment you get excited too

Except you get excited for a different reason

And when their discovery turns to a shameful frown of defeat

Your lips turn upward towards the sky

Chuckling to yourself, kind of happy, kind of sad

Yet you understand enough to feel commradery

Wishing that stranger was your friend

Just so you could kick em in the pants

I will remain.

The grass is green getting longer

in the summer

there’s a barbecue and I’ve

got this rice paper journal

it’s eternal

like the sun over Nepal.

Now there’s these two little blue birds

singing softly, shadow dancers

on the lawn

I’ve got this quaint little feeling

there’s a reason

for the bull skull on the wall.

A plane flies overhead

a sky of blue, a sea of red

mountaintops and forest bed

remain…

The grass is covered with snowfall

in October

frosted snow caps on the lawn

yet still those two little blue birds

nesting softly

they sing their joyful song.

I lace my boots fill my canteen

need some relief

from the city full of drums

rucksack and trail unwinding

I’m reminded

of my love for everyone.

The rocks and sandstone bend

leaves fall from tree, I comprehend

there is no time still consequence

remains,

I will remain.

from the grassy knoll

A wave of relief rushes over me

and I haven’t smiled so hard,

as when a flock of morning dove

flutter from the grassy knoll

and fly overhead.