Shikantaza
Who is just sitting?
It is not me, or is it,
here on the cushion.
Who is asking the question?
Nobody really knows that.
13 JUN 2024
04.30.24
Thisness
I think, therefore I am not being.
When I am, I don’t need to think about it;
How does a raindrop perceive itself,
either forming in the cloud,
dripping down the sky,
or disappearing in the ocean?
It is only wet.
There is no deep dive required.
30 APR 2024
12.12.16
I Think Therefore
I think; therefore I am
whatever in here gives a damn
and whatever lays inside the lines
that separate me from my mind.
I think; therefore I am,
at least for that brief moment’s span
until I stop and think again
and I am not what I was then.
I think; therefore I am
what separates me, what great plan
lies beyond me? Who can say?
Not sure it matters, anyway.
I think; therefore I am:
What a self-important scam!
Long before that first idea,
there was something less, still me.
I think; therefore I am
whatever out there gives a damn
that I choose to shut up tight
and imagine gives out light.
12 DEC 2016
12.22.13
Just Yesterday’s News
I don’t know the man that I’m supposed to be:
I’ve looked at his life like a documentary;
and with some of his choices I just can’t agree;
but it’s too late to start out again.
I’m tired of the man I’m supposed to become:
that you get where you’re going thanks to where you’re from,
and somehow, the pieces add up to the sum
’til it’s too late to start out again.
Help me out, anyone, throw me a line;
tell me again things will all be just fine.
Help me out, would you, we’re out here alone;
we don’t need to be stuck on our own.
I’m sick of the man I turned into a while:
that often unsteady and pathetic smile
who traded in substance and bartered with style,
but you can’t up and start out again.
I’m sure I don’t know who I’ll be in the end:
the lover, the fighter, the poet, the friend;
but at least in the mirror, I will not pretend
it’s not too late to start out again.
Help me out, anyone, throw me a bone,
some reassurance here in the unknown.
Help me out, please, and I’ll do you the same;
we don’t need to keep playing this game.
I’m just not quite clear who I’ll be in a year:
but some things are cloudy, and others quite clear;
there’s neither the past or the future to fear,
and there’s no starting over again.
Help me out, anyone, just take a chance.
Music is playing; we’ve paid for the dance.
Help me out, honestly, what can you lose?
We don’t always get what we choose,
but we’re neither just yesterday’s news.
22 DEC 2013
04.28.13
The shadow knows
It ought to be a simple thing:
you spend years looking for just what
inspires you, makes you realize
exactly how to become you,
to finally be satisfied
with who the mirror shows you back,
and make the bold choice to refuse
your past to close you in.
It ought to be a simple thing;
and yet, once that thing is achieved,
and all the hours and pointless days
up to that point are washed away,
the wounds from battles long forgot
all healed, their scars in slow retreat,
a shadow still remains behind
and finds you unaware.
It ought to be a simple thing:
a shoulder’s shrug should send it off,
that careless smile you’ve learned to wear
to keep your thoughts close to the vest,
and yet, despite a new-found strength
spurred by convictions now secured,
the darkness creeps in with the night
to hide you from yourself.
28 APR 2013
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Something or Another Thing
Trying to catch a thought to write it down,
despite years of serious effort, seems
sometimes, so pointless; and though I may clown
and gambol with these words that come like dreams
I realize they are not concrete things.
Perhaps they represent solid matter,
for deep within their core, a stillness sings;
more likely they are meaningless chatter.
True, it is my sense of self that draws
them here; they have no motive of their own,
nor need to fling themselves, cackling jackdaws
picking at the marrow of the soul’s bone.
In fact, these words may not at all exist,
except to provide shadows in a mist.
30 JUN 2003
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