i enter an empty temple.
it’s not silent.
footfalls resonate
&
floorboards creak.
but flickering flames
&
sleepy-eyed Buddhas
are quiet enough
in an hour,
the monks will filter in
with great punctuality:
monks, young and old.
(i would say, “and ages in-between,”
but they all seem young or old.)
there will be chanting,
and the din of finger cymbals
and deep-toned drums.
and i will leave
for the solace
of the world
outside the temple.
the lake is glassy;
half rippled / half frosted,
and yet one lake
giant stag beetle with broken antler and limp still freaks me out
A grouchy nitwit wrote a polemic
about how Yetis had caused the Pandemic.
The Yetis protested,
and kindly requested
the man ponder head-in-ass hygienics.
There once was an indolent Turk who was never around to do work. With his makeshift footstool, he'd snore & he'd drool. They called his stool "the Ottoman" and smirk.
the bungalow’s round
angles & odd proportions
make fairytale look
Tiger Riding for Beginners 