beside the stream it is built
in between the guarding trees
down from the rocks that
protect its foundations
open to all who dare to walk
across its wooden issues...
each step marks a passage
of time that cannot be
taken back or exchanged,
koi watch you cross over
each section daring you to
become their food...
with each on passed, you
join the elders who walked
before you, leaving behind
old knowledge in seach of
new you find along the way.
April 7, 2025
April 6, 2025
thown in a day and fired
makes the pot in which
these flowers rest...
unknown to the maker
just as these flowers are
unknown to the grower;
juxtaposed they are perfect,
unknown too are the origins
of the fruit and table, were
they purchased or in the
case of the latter, made?
known or unknown or is
it just a little guessing?
the nature of questions
derails our understandng
and focus on the art...
we are guests in our own
silly mental imaginings.
April 5, 2025
red, read, runaway, routine rediscovered
smoke sifts silently somewhere else
we are the patters of our memory's
our thought just seem to sort themselves our
wicked are the reasons we devour each other
under the pretentense of survival love,
crawling along the sands of the glass
moving from top to bottom as if
it were designed for our space...
walking incognito through time and space
altering dimensions in our wake
underlying is what we do when we do it
not caring what is around our tables,
we are your imagination and your fantasy
like it or not, we exist for your pleasure
and for those you try to pleasure...
we are what's been in you all along.
April 3, 2025
between the banks
on which the trees reside
reaching out to touch each other
someday soon they will.
reflected in the mirror waters
they are, along with the bules
of the sky moving outward from
the strokes of the paddle
gently touching and moving
it all behind... darks and lights
all float together silently,
elegantly in the picturesque views
provided - captured from the day before
when the journey started and we
all the life around us - what it was
that brought ut back again...
this river... this beloved river.
April 2, 2025
curtains of colorless clouds all around
a perfect background for the dark trees
and their abundance of new green leaves...
blues, reds, and shades highlighted too
mixed in with various hues and textures that
offer a rainbow of sights fit for royalty,,,
rain sprinkles down on the silence
birds chirp away at their neighbors carelessly,
smells of freshness filter through the air
like smoke from campfires meandering
down through the hollows on some
abandoned trail long ago used to journey
through the smoky mountains enroute to
the all white cotton fields of the south...
a paradise for those who live in slow motion.
April 1, 2025
the golden orb spins counter
to one's intuition - illumination
backlights darkness, casting
down pale-yellow light mixed
with the haze already billowing
forth as cumulous pillows too
soft upon which to sleep...
shadows simmer in the sky's pot
like something on a firepit to
which attention must be given,
shades of yellowy greyness
forge upward as if attempting to
change the pitch-black ink spilled
across the heavens, hoping to
cover the remaining faint light,
dancing carelessly toward the
reflection that has beckoned it.
March 30, 2025
we are one with ourselves
viewing life around us
accepting life within
wishing for the moments
when the two blend...
reflections of who we are
or want to be, come
pouring out the senses,
we edit the differences,
keep our thoughts silent
and subversive as we mold
post to the future,
determining right angles of
thought and triangles of
equalities under the sun,
shadows hide our dreams
beside the ones we left
there yesterday morning
when views were similar.
March 29, 2025
eyes focus,.. retaining
what they can for
later when not so alone,
unaware, the hold the
keys to passion,
unaware, the perform
silent rituals,
unaware, they share what
they do not want to as
caring and love remains
forever private...
on the other side
eyes squint to take it all in
to remember and imagine
what it would be like
it was reverse...
who's privacy would be
available to see,
who's would be violated?
March 29, 2025
through the absent day...
and over the banks of the small ponds
attempting to catch its reflections,
the curved earth knows no limitations
knows no resistance from the
flocks of trees along its banks...
rocks hold the old ones while
tentative roots dig into the clay
from which the pots that hold the liquid
were made from decades ago,
when these seedlings had just
dropped from above,
flung to the side by the wind
that knew no other course,
the small fish became large and
were easily caught by the lads who
imagined great things from a full moon.
March 28, 2025
March 27, 2025
