SG Poem

electric crackling
humming feedback fades
with the turn of a dial

slow steady
just six notes

no whirling robes
windmilling
no hammering
of the gods

a touch of vibrato
more punctuation
than punk

north wind poem

salt stains

splatter robe cuffs

ice cracking

in windy tree branches

pull my hood up

sinking deeper

tucking in tight

against the sleet

stretch out

shovel sore back

look to the horizon

a little more light 

each day

my robes

robes still fit
even after seven years
 a couple thousand days
 of tired monk duties

they're rumpled
 worn
but I slip them on
 pray
that the wrinkles
will fall out


the tired monk

snow

snow is layered in thick
muffling the sound
of my Epiphone thunder

Dark Days / Winter's Duties

robes are layered

double thick

warding off 

the north wind 

once more

up the snow dusted ladder

one last untangled strand

wound through 

apple tree branches

a little more light

on this darkest day

of a dark year


the tired monk

winter wood

axe held high
let it fall
 hard
splitting winter wood
 stack it in tight
 to the temple door
 ready for the waiting cold

aged temple dog

i)

aged temple dog
wakes slow
stretches out
old bent legs

heads out
on her
under table rounds

ii)

eyes are going
just a few dim shadows
flicker in the light

ears are pretty much gone
sounds are fading
dancing out just past perception

nose is rock solid good
reliable and true
one final sure and steady sense