Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

twisted skeletons 
of once thriving trees stand
in the temple yard

waves crash 
against the cliff base,
& are turned back

bright beach summer.
the sand is everywhere,
and i don’t care.

flowers glow brightly 
in the sunset’s low light,
and then go dark

spring flowers
hang limply, after
the downpour

a cold, rainy day,
but the green grass thrives --
well-watered / air fresh

the scent of death
assaults my nostrils: 
carcass or fungi?

the crow's eye
remains glued on me
as its head swivels

one foot hits puddle.
cold water stings my mind
through a squishy sock

the sprawling courtyard
of the Forbidden City;
army imagined