Monday, January 28, 2019



whatcha got there?

this here is
   a semi-automatic typewriter

yah need a license fer that?

   not yet


a old remnant pulled outta
deep basement corner
a bit dusty
but surges to life
ready for words

the tired monk

Thursday, January 10, 2019


monk robes hang
below shrugged on parka
tattered hem soaked heavy
in clinging ice

bare monk feet
wellington warm
ploughing through crusted snow
temple dog runs back up the trail
at the next gusty cold wind blast


mitts on vents
sweaters over chairs
robe dries slowly by the kitchen fire
remnant snow boot puddles disappear
leaving only a few salt rings

Wednesday, January 9, 2019

a question

you really the tired monk?

bone weary tired
beat burdened
but still ready
to serve

propped up
by temple dog walks
a few warm holy songs
maybe a slug of highland healing
bit of Drambuie warding
off this winter cough

held up by these monk robes


Saturday, December 22, 2018

hallway lament

overheard hallway lament:
"ain't bin no fights...I wanna see a fight"


they'd been in the wrong hall
missed the big lumbering guy
tossing dumb looping
shoulder smacking haymakers
little fella quick ducking
and dishing out feisty jabs


everybody is looking for fights
'til the blood is a hot stream
a steady rivulet
misting with every breath

later - they just desire
busted knuckle ice.

Friday, October 19, 2018

scattered bits n'fragments


deep temple dog tired
tired of wars
n' wars on words

tired of fighting
pushing on the last few
fading monks
to move
just move


coffee pot
bottom burned black
       needs scrubbing
morning of wet monk


energy drink cans
scattered up the ditches
or squashed flat
and paved over
in the pre-frost rush


this violin
is a fiddle in these hands
sawing  - mingling
with Americana chords
lifting n'healing
yer broken heart

 -  Tired Monk notebook poems

Tuesday, October 9, 2018


autumn angled sun beams
cutting through tinted leaves
warm orange light

temple dog runs up the slough
disappears down in the ditch
slicking low in the mud
following a scent

reach down...feeling around
under the step stash
sweet bourbon
wards off the fall air

Sunday, September 30, 2018

a glimpse

a light year
glimpse of Orion
tucked inside
a sweep of morning clouds
and swaying white pine boughs