A kind in glass and a cousin, a spectacle and
nothing strange a single hurt color and an
arrangement in a system to pointing. All
this and not ordinary, not unordered in not
resembling. The difference is spreading.
We’re all screwed. Embrace the chaos or head for the hills.
There is a class of problems that brute force solutions, even when they nudge the needle in the desired direction, always end in devastation.
One can’t drive an aircraft carrier like a jet-ski and expect anything other than a bunch of drowned sailors and destroyed planes.
[Guess who’s been reading the news.]
Lying back on the water,
Peering into a cloud,
I shift like driftwood --
rocking and rising,
rolling and dipping.
As I stare at the cloud,
It seems to stare back.
It drifts - suspiciously -
Or maybe I'm drifting
And it is still --
In truth, we're both drifting,
And neither of us has
The mental energy to be
Suspicious.
There is a singer everyone has heard,
Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,
Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.
He says that leaves are old and that for flowers
Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.
He says the early petal-fall is past
When pear and cherry bloom went down
in showers
On sunny days a moment overcast;
And comes that other fall we name the fall.
He says the highway dust is over all.
The bird would cease and be as other birds
But that he knows in singing not to sing.
The question that he frames in all but words
Is what to make of a diminished thing.
Anytime that such an encounter doesn’t start with a socially-programmed question [e.g. “Where are you from?” or “How ya doin’?”] or attempt to drag me into a communal bitching session [e.g. “Man, this line sure is slow!”] it has the potential to be a great interaction.
Unfortunately, encounters that meet both criteria are so rare that I’m usually caught off-guard. It’s like seeing a leprechaun or a unicorn, one doesn’t have time to process it before the moment is gone. Still, there have been a few over the years — conversations on topics of mutual interest, mostly.
Winter day:
bright sunlight at cloud's end --
glassy river.
Wen-Tzu by Lao-Tzu
Tiger Riding for Beginners 