In one moment
legs crossed and humility
on my shoulders
I am a lone nun
mountain side sitting
and seeing far off
still waters a crane
takes flights

Tea steams

Just to see October,
the melancholic
strands of auburn
in her golden hair. To feel
the hint of bitter chill
in her romantic breath. Her scent,
inescapable: dry, leaf, orange, mulch.

Sideways, long-shadow moment watch
her in oak trees
as she so gently
undresses them
with merciless hands that even the breeze
is in love with.
Red brown yellow leaves
singing, dancing down sidewalks
in the tumble
of October’s assertive sigh.

Moon and midnight agree
with crickets’ songs, and they
praise October in vivid ebony skies
clarity unseen
by any other than October

The poetry
of this moment: a leaf
radiant and beaming
in golden autumn sun evening.

The poetry of this moment is
the way air looks
next to rose’s white petal.

It is the potential within stillness
before the breeze’s song
uncovers its sound.

It is space
between rocks in a canyon
before river makes its bed.

Its an empty cup before tea or
perhaps it is the earth
before the tea plant
wraps itself around scent.

The poetry of this moment:
a steady pulse beneath sound
ever present to be discovered and wrapped
within the curved thoughts
of language.

The poetry of this moment
is my open palm;
the space open for bird’s call
and the gentle sweeping sound
of activity.

Day lingers
in swaying willow leaves
Summer breathes
her last breaths as she falls
for dry, wooded breezes, Her
work is done & she naps
along with the other seasons.

Her last sun sets & the trees
offer fruits and leaves
to her magnificence.

The bay waters,
the willow leaves
golden as she breathes
her final setting sun breeze.

Light mist
between my eye and the
white rose

Open the window

There is breath to behold

Piercing sky, I
am the tail
of wind

Walking on a mountain
path each
passing moment as lost
as any other, in all time

Desert wind
Mountain air
this now,
the culmination
of every breath

Ripples whisper a line
where sky and water
Moon has taken its stance
among an army of stars–
silhouette of mountains
like a woman’s shoulders
exposed by midnight’s moon.
Mountain limbs cradle
still water. No
wind just night
heavily expanding
to water’s depth.

Stars in all directions
Mountains rising, falling

May you taste moments
as you taste tea:
        Deep with mind-
        ful reverence.
May you sip pristine
clarity, profound depth, and
expansive sensuality in
every breath

May traces of steam never
go unnoticed

Upon recognizing beauty:
tears and
there is nothing beautiful
about beauty.
Nothing amazing
about amazement.

Rain petals
in my empty, pearl cup.
Tired steam pleading
for another steep.

Nothing meditative
about meditation.

City train
rapid out of station
is an outgoing tide. A
rolling wave of horns
and the wave comes bounding back in.
People depart like sea foam
searching grains of sand for
connections. And then
the tide goes out again


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