
legs in leaf litter,
garden lanterns catch light
that pierces bare woods.

legs in leaf litter,
garden lanterns catch light
that pierces bare woods.
Contemplating the unknowable.

bare branches,
in the Winter forest,
look frost-covered.


Positive? Negative? Who’s to say? Like the Taoist farmer, I’ll withhold judgement.


Sure, I just saw a bird fly past my window, and I’m fairly certain that it wasn’t domesticated.

through a window:
first ripples of a Spring rain
seen on a pond.




The train is speeding down the line.
Gold Buddha glints in the sunshine.
Jarring is the train whistle’s whine,
we plunge into a dark tunnel.