Monday, October 12, 2015


As I crunch over
Dry fallen needles below:
Scent of a cedar

Thursday, October 1, 2015


Dogs that bark,
People that bark.

Down off

Lowered & rolled
Down off the bus
By way of machines,
I heard the most
human of yawns.


She leaps aside,
Red. Long.

"Let's not eat them all",
The ripe ones
In our mouths.

But on the way back
We can't help
And pluck
Several more.

No animals
Seem interested
In them,
So it must be
Up to us.

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Phoenix, of sorts

Like a shit phoenix
It emerged flying from the toilet:
A little brown moth

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Still Morning

In the still morning air
and distant city noise,
one leaf of bamboo falls.

Monday, May 25, 2015

On Eagerness

I sometimes feel like I'm excitedly running down a beach, eager to feel the coolness of seawater on my feet, only to find each wave I approach receding; leaving only wetted sand under every footfall, gritty between my toes.

Maybe this is just the nature of desire.
Maybe other people only seem to have this problem less then I do.
Maybe I'm wrong about more things than I realize.

Maybe I drive away my objects of desire.
Maybe I mistrust my wants.
Maybe I'm not at peace with them.

Maybe I'm not at peace with myself.
Maybe on some level, it's on purpose.
Maybe I'm trying to teach myself something.

Dangerous Place

Haiku book in wind
The page a dangerous place
For a tiny fly


A gentle face
Shows as soft covers part:
The springtime sun

Chirping Jesus

By the Catholic college
I thought I heard a bird
Chirping, "Jesus".

Thursday, April 23, 2015


Feeling frail
Feelings fail
Like a creep
Creep alike
Thinly spread
Spindly thread
Finely tread
Finally dead?

Down not out
Drown it out
Self may steal
Steel myself
No backup limbs
But climb back up

Bootstraps me
But traps me
No rest for me
Formed restlessly

written June 2014


What is this poison?
In the belly, in the soul,
This malaise pasted bloody
atop perception:
An overlay of agony.
Inartful thought and action
Propagates through perception,
Permeates consciousness;
Nearly kills the being,
Rendering it something other,
Nearly monstrous.
Pain radiates into the soul,
An un-cured malady
Of desirable resentment
Residing deep beneath;
Barely glimpsed,
for all its ubiquity.

Thinking of God(less)

I don't believe in God.

Don't misunderstand me: that doesn't mean I'm convinced that I know there is no God. I'm pretty sure there are not gods in the ancient sense of powerful beings in the sky and such--sky daddies, as they've been humorously referred to in some circles.

I'm pretty sure that few human beings referring to God can even imagine a being as big as they're trying to refer to--I ignore those who claim to know of any divine will personally. Appealing to scripture is dubious: did the writers understand what they meant? Do we understand what the writers intended, or what we wish to take away from their writings in our own context? Can we believe the more extravagant claims made in religious texts as anything but myth and superstition from an earlier time?

I don't believe I could fully imagine an entity that vast, but it seems to me it wouldn't be hung up on the sorts of religious observances that humans often follow. I can't imagine it being concerned that we believe in or worship it, that it is anything like the jealous god of Israel depicted in the pre-Christian Bible.

I also don't think that my belief would make a difference if there were a God. What matters to me is merely the question of how to live. I think any deity with any regard for mortal life would have to agree with the Golden Rule. It would have to have some degree of compassion if it understood us at all. A sort of love-without-preference. And if it is not these things, then why affiliate myself with it more than I must?

I believe that what we experience as God is a purely a human phenomenon. Some biologically-influenced imperative to look for patterns, to feel connected, to be part of something greater than ourselves, to see stories in the world, to think we have an audience.

Perhaps there is something greater than ourselves besides the immense collection of our species, the groups we belong to; "something out there" as the more nebulous and open-minded theists (or believers in ET) might say. But for me, I will focus on what's in front of me. I will learn to love my fellow humans. I will try to be the best limited, mortal, human creature I can be.

Then I will die, and I suspect that will be the end of it.

Heart Health Care

Where heart transplants
Are concerned,
Rejection is
A killer;
Whether it's
Asking for donors
Or, especially,

Compromise, then:
Install a
Pig, or pump.
They don't argue
(Or aren't allowed to).
Will I still feel like me
With them inside?

Is not for
A missing beat,
It's for an
irregular one:
So call a medic
with paddles to fix
This odd beat.

Whisper the Cold

bitter breeze,
breathe a deep freeze
foisted forcefully,
bodily into me.
stealth-creeping heat-thief
with wordless chills,

Thursday, March 12, 2015

No Expectation

Without expectation
Or desperation
She gave a sensation
Of pure elation

God of Sky

A mechanized god of sky
Rolls thunder in your ear
Low-flying over-by

Friday, March 6, 2015

Split spectra

Drinking in sunset colors
like a fish breathes water;
Spectrum split by scales,
Colors return to the world.

Alternate (bad speech-to-text) version:
Drinking water 
is bringing colors
like a fish 
like a fish 
release of scales 
shutting them back out

Monday, March 2, 2015


An attack fueled by lust,
A ruse enabled by greed.
Crying in the forest:
Who is crying?

Honor besmirches itself,
Scorns two men and a woman,
And all of them each other.
Only the lying thief is honest.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Never Twice

She said she'd never leave him,
And true to her word, she didn't;
Until the day she finally did.
But you never step in the same river twice.

Stars in their eyes

Eyes like the night sky
With points of light
Brighter than stars

Saturday, February 14, 2015

Spring in February

Spring in February,
crocus and daffodils have bloomed;
cold wind bites my hands.

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Purple Hat Moon

Moon with purple hat.
Eyes create the illusion:
Burned-in spots of sun.

Thursday, January 1, 2015

Thoughts After Midnight In the New Year

Just about a year and an hour ago, I went to bed angry at the world. Tonight I go to bed content, although I'm just as alone as I was last year, and superficially not much has changed.

But my attitude has changed drastically: my mind is on what is instead of what I want. I'm focused on being present and mindful. I hope to be a force for good in every new year of life that may come.

I'm learning not to be fearful, preparing for death by really living life. I hope I can share this sense of the value of mortality, and spread compassion and understanding in all things.

I'd like you to be part of my piece of this existence. I hope to learn from you, and to teach you, if I can and if I may. Let's live this life and be present together.


In 2015 may you find peace and happiness.
May you understand yourself and others better.
May you replace harmful old habits with better new ones.
May you find love within yourself and share it freely with the world.
May you have no problems--or at least may you have patience, determination, courage, and understanding to overcome the ones you'll inevitably face.


If a ghost is uncertainly glimpsed, thin mist,
Then in the thickest fog, everything's a ghost.

Ghost cars.
Ghost cows.
Ghost farms.
Ghost sheep.
Ghost towns, ghost barns, ghost trees,
Ghost house, ghost park, ghost street.
Ghostly old folk.
Ghosts of the American dream.

Ghost dreams
And ghost thoughts
Flood my mind,
In a fog of nebulous mist,
All ill-conceived.

Ghosts in the machine
That is this world:
Hungry ghosts,
Grudging ghosts,
Fading ghosts unseen.
As time wears on,
Forgotten ghosts
not yet passed on;
Ghosts themselves deceased.

Subtractive Sculpture

Learning to know someone
Positively, carefully done,
With loving kindness,
Is subtractive sculpture.

Let the first impression
Be a block of solid marble:
Each subsequent encounter
A chipping and chiseling away

Of gross material yielding
Increasingly finer chips,
Sculpting out subtler details,
Gradually growing more beautiful.

Though it seems to take away,
The process is actually additive:
The shrinking slab of marble
And sculptor both made greater.