mm

picking in so tight
then back out into big
open hammering chords
sliding around
working the neck
looking for that sound
the one that pulls you in deep
eyes close - head bobs
left foot beats out the bass beats

really don't know what it is
hazy on the musical nomenclature
just know we are working in millimetres

forest death

quaking aspens fall quick
free of friction
in too quick succession
sudden sonic shaking
rattling the temple walls

white pine falls slow
endless needles grasping air
thick branches clinging
to neighbour trees
fighting this final
earthbound plummet

serve

tears come easily
in this overwhelming
world of broken brokenness

deeply tempted to role away
from the pre-dawn
dim clock-radio light
murmur of morning news
slip back into silly dreams

gird up my ragged monk robes
brew strong black coffee
double up the sugar ... a rare treat

braced ready to serve

remedy

bitter winter cough
fading
finally loosened
by Jameson drams
and sweet honey tea

tasty remedy route
back to my prayers


the tired monk

silence

the hall empties out
a final door bang
swirling papers

the tired monk sits
waits
reads a few more lines
by the dimmed night lights

closes his books
waits
dwells in the rare
deep silence

cold poem redux

harsh hammering rooftop sleat
low snow truck rumbles

the tired monk wanders
the night temple halls
tightens the windows
stokes the dying heath fire

waits it out
sipping warm sweet tea

acrued wisdom

slap sting face cold
doubled by
sweeping open space winds

a most cold cold duty
chip and dig out the path
these hardening white dunes

first...
slips in to woodstove warmed boots,
doubled layered robes and
thick Seahawks toque covering
this bald monk head