Friday, August 26, 2011

Modern Kinhin

adjust headphones and oil-gas mix
bass notes over motor rumble
weeds n'ditch grass laid low
fumes, mown lawn, tonsured head sweat
ragged glory of every step

the Tired Monk

Midnight Kinhin - a Response

in every Kinhin step
stumble roots trip
these sandalled feet

blackberry canes
tear these red robes
this is the work:
this task

the last path twists
past the toppled
chapel benches
into the forest
so dark by lost lake

Midnight Kinhin - Original Poem

Thursday, August 25, 2011

the monk's ol'gear

hockey bag
still open
from the last pillage:
shin pads, helmet screws,
worn holey Habs socks

smell of ol'gear
and glory
fill the basement

the monk long retired
from the sport
considers a comeback

first step:
sunlight and August breeze

There were actually three bags open...September hockey looms; and stinks.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Tired Monk: Dawn

abbess up
those early hour
still dark duties

tired monk
rolls robe deep
dreams trickle back:

temple dogs
storm the bed
abbess looks in ...laughs

Monday, August 22, 2011

Fran's Smile

one car -  one street town
Jack gives up
his shotgun rights
slips in the backseat
beckoned by Fran's smile

the tired monk's match

late summer wrestling
full of  those
old small town
Jameson dropkicks

this robe cincher
this loin girder
this sleeve roller
coming outta
the corner...crazed

throwing looping fists
clenching headlocks
at this metaphor
this universe
this one story

he knows the outcome
of this match
this eternal match
was booked long ago

Thursday, August 18, 2011


just an old L
no fancy 50
more like
an empty box of beer
tucked n'hidden
under basement stairs

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

in your city

i'm in your city
but we don't meet

behind that desk or
on Conners Hill

crowd of thousands
dreadlock thick

across the street
guitar strapped back

passing unknown
like any tired monk

summer debris

summer debris
not all beach balls, tents,
fishing poles

paint flecked robes n'rollers
worn remnants
tucked behind the shed

Thursday, August 4, 2011

monk's market

early morning, market opens
old tired monk
wanders stall to stall
basket brims:
peppers, carrots, ginger...
one last stop
to fill this one bowl