owed hours

minutes stop ticking
in hazy mid-night - early early morning
wanderings

owed hours
in this growing sleep debt

paid in full
by the baby monk
follow his lead
into glorious afternoon nap

black socks

black socks
never white

slowly, attached
buttoned up garter belt tight

quick check:
visual - symmetry is key
and knee bending comfort

next tape
on the stripes
or big game cross-over

laces snapped tight
ready to hit the ice

Monks Make It

wind cold
lake effect snow
layering in deep

the old Benedictine Monk
and the Tired Monk
sit quiet and warm
around a well
banked fire
snifters full of B&B

temple dogs slumber

some come by
see the sitting
see the drinking
raise eyebrows
shake heads in
disdain

The tired monk raises his glass
fire light through amber
winks and says:

"Monks make it."

a tired monk moment

cranky
on this cusp of Christmas
pot rattling, grinding, brewing

the tired monk
ponders a new idea
a moment amidst morning duties
a new holday:
the International Day of Sleeping In

forgive me

black eyes
swung from ragged fists
insincerity, and broken hearts
comments loosely tossed -
steeped deep in sarcasm
slow to act moments
stand by failures

forgive me

The Tired Monk - a New Maxim

good at walking
slow meditations
forest path ponderings
star watching dreams

good at jokes
by the fire songs
poems -  stories -
photos flow

good at night duties
drinks,bottles
pitch black bed tucker
and coffee brewer

adept at these tired monk tasks

a new maxim emerges - a new endeavour
- a new focus and challenge:

forgiveness

Wrestling the Tired Monk

old master
were you really a wrestler?
tell us of those days
tell us.

you novices want to hear
about locks, chains
sinew snapping submissions
ear grinds, grapples and pain

sore to the bone
holds cinched in tight
wrecked knees
and creaky old joints

old time shooting style
sweaty gym mat
bumps, fist thumps
twisted up broken dreams

blood on the floor

you don't want to hear about that

Starbucks Smell

drinking coffee
that's supposed to be good...
tired monk good
wishing it was better
tossed it out over some
fox scats
confusing nature
with Starbucks smell

Kerouac Heaven

We will call Jesus
and honour him
with heart and art
ol'Jack Kerouac
will role up his sleeves
and explain it all
to the newcomers.