temple kitchen

few last dishes soak
the abbess enters
reminds the tired monk

of love

in a quiet kitchen
slow dance

the tired monk's uniform

i)

"that a dress?"


take a lotta heat
so beat in these robes

ii)

each sweat bead stings
these salty sweat wasps
over this tonsured head

iii)

thinning wool winter socks
tucked poem deep
into birkenstock feet

religion/rebellion

dawn bursting blue
in sunshine glints
ice crackles

trudging slow
walking stick swings
flicking forward

each slipping step
cutting a thin path
through religion and rebellion

the tired monk's swords

novices gather...stare

at the mounted swords

fighting the urge to fight

all swinging blades and rage

tired monk...master

can we give 'em a go?...can we?

no young ones no

we practice pen kung fu



http://magpietales.blogspot.com/2011/03/mag-58.html

a tired monk vigil

climb the temple tower
a high window vigil

observe

like an ol'fire watcher
on desolation peak

observe

long lonely hours
looking for hope

tired monk kung fu

novices training:
old county kung fu

tired monk girds his robe
punches flick: rabbit, hook, n'haymakers

tired monk heads back in
time for tea and an ice pack

The Tired Monk's Early Spring

curtains flung wide
doors swung open
fresh spring air flows

winter's dust swept
out onto cobble walks
wet with shrinking snow

the abbess smiles
brings out her flowers
loved in sun beam light

robe shoulders

these old robes

heavy

shoulders weighted
in old bitter chips

cleaned this morning
by the milky mouth
of the baby monk

the tired monk thinks of spring

tea cools
too quick

temple dog
lifts her paw

winter robes
getting thin

beer burst
frothy puddle

still...the sun lights this early morning forest

a tired monk walk

"I'm pissed off"
"they stopped checking"
"blew that lead in twenty minutes"
"losers - buncha losers"

more:


smash-whacking snow
off his car
ice kicking
f-bomb flurries
disdain and spitting anger


not me

          content

                      walk the dog on by


(Collected these quotations from my neighbours...thanks neighbours.)

a divergent tired monk poem

i)

i ain't joining
that is how we say it up here
that's right:
i ain't joining
that is how we do it up here

ii)

our robes
wrapped against the world

iii)

shovels snow
pens poems

touching archetypes...
...that is how we do it up here