Tired Monkness

he is the late night monk
deep in night knowledge:
stars swinging overhead
the stumble bum drunk
reeling in beer bottle ditches
swinging home after
bending many taps

yes the monk of dark moons
baby cries, bottle runs
"glass of water" called down halls

holder of many titles:
he's the door rattler
the noise checker
pitch black forest walker
early morning arena sitter

he is the tired monk
embracing his essence

Night Forest

fear
she's afraid
of the night forest
a place of phantom
bears and muggers
ghost wolves prowl
mind spawned terrors
each snapping twig
in the forest depths
causes a primordial
adrenaline pulse
pounds, pounding
in heart flushing
fear

rush, run
from and out
of the forest's grasp

Frost

frost treaded deep
sun slips over fields
sinking into the dark

Take Out the Adjective

a human surge
crushing down the hall
with locker smash a'bash
metal thunder

combat girls spitting fury
all big clunky swings, and screams
hay makers met with
dashing rabbit punches
on light boxer feet
flicking punches
rattle teeth, close eyes
black bruising blood
drips

mob cheers
"that was a beautiful fight"

take out the adjective

The Tired Monk's Lamp

no lit lamps
deep in the forest damp

plenty of light
moon, fireflies, raccoon eyes

Blogger Wisdom

adrenaline
drip ripping,
in roller coaster surges
but wait...
I'm desk sitting
fight or flight
over files
not fright

work: a soul kicking
adding to my shoulder chips
death decisions
as I pretend to live

borrow blogger wisdom:
be Solomon coming hard
out of a Square Corner
reflect and let go
pour this adrenal rage
into a deep blog hole

Thanks to S.Q. and the Dox
for lending me the shovel.

Tired Monk Blue Star Haiku

stars blaze above
cosmic hot white
light years of colour

fall cold soaks shoulders
hands shiver on icy scope
constellations shake

sun slips over the horizon
early morning light
fade these blue stars

colour free black sky
just white stars
doubled on lake water

Haystack Deep

leaf pile raised high
haystack deep
fling the robes around
hood up
descend in, covered
escape the crisp fall wind
afternoon nap
in nature's quilt

rough shake:
abbot pokes with rake
and stern look

"I was just embracing my Tired Monkness"

The Tired Monk and the Stars 3.0

colder winds blow
quaking aspens quake
rustle and rattle of unseen leaves
whiskey breath clouds
the optics

The Tired Monk and the Stars 2.0

scope is raised
Andromeda is hurtling
towards us
a cosmic crash
with the milky way
the tired monk waits
steady
ready for this time
a bursting blast
of a trillion stars
crazy thoughts
swirling

The Tired Monk and the Stars

forest provides
a light shield
perfect
for raising his telescope
up through
light years of time

Fall 3.0

sandals sweep
through breezy leaves
of the forest floor
sun undims the world
colours creep
reveals the redness
of my robes
i sink
into the leaves
a perfect blend

Twisted Staff

I'm tired

Let's stop - rest - discuss Basho - dharma, Jesus...

We will when you untwist this staff.

Discourse with the Abbot

I'm tired

You are the tired monk.
This rake will make you
more yourself.

Work

truck sitting, parking lot blues

waiting for the courage to go in
"to work"

big sigh and begin

over shards of glass

past graffiti trash

my day of fists and fights
crowds storming forward
to see the blows reign
and the wet face of pain
trying to look tough

alarms pulled
fires lit, dumpster smolders
I stand amazed,
in this bureaucratic craze:
as the admin team steps in,
but don't step up

Kid says: "this your job?"
it is
witness close and true
then papers, forms, reports
all adjective free
files of blood, glass, and tears

Broken

pastor wrapping up

deep deep sermon

profound ending

whispered for dramatic effect

softly spoken:

"pray to be broken"

that's not a prayer i need

that's not a prayer we need

we need to be put back together
put us back together

Crimson Blur

leaves rolling red
from waving heights
red robin bursts up
through the cascade
a crimson blur