Rusty prayer wheels
on a dusty street.
They squeak & they squeal,
& no circuit completes,
but still hands reach out for each one
'cause who has faith in the clean wheel spun?
Rusty Prayer Wheels [Lyric Poem]
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a butterfly hangs
upside down,
but it seems upside down
is as meaningless an
an abstraction for it
as the two million km/h
that a human sweeps,
spins, expands, etc.
through space
is for the person who
feels only the couch
against his backside.
what must it be to not know
upside down -- to feel free
to fall, knowing the air
will catch one?

mushroom stands tall;
wasn’t there the day before,
may be gone the next.

big-leafed saplings
line the understory:
wee cascade murmurs.