Monk's Music

headphones rest
tight on tonsured head
robe sleeves rolled high
deep in monk work
praying, raking, sweeping


Novice sees and ponders
  What holy music fills those monk ears?
   Tibetan horns?  deep and rolling
   Holy brothers chanting? those most ancient prayers
   David's Psalms?  sweet sweet praise


no

remember these are humbucker poems


 -------------------

I'd love to hear your guess...

the Tired Monk

on poet monks

poets got work
stopping
seeing
capturing moments

monks too
those robed wardens
watching
that ritual doesn't
slip to routine

the working poet

we don't pay poets
to write poems
no hammering out
beauty
in eight hour shifts

Lingering Dreams

heads a bit foggy
reach for my robe
  stumble
still morning clumsy

go to fill the kettle
a second time
this old monk brain
awash in a final
flurry of dreams

the monk's fourth wall

are you a monk?
    really
          really a monk?


I've got a bowl, a robe,
I pray

last night
I really shaved my head -
but can one tonsure a persona?




please accept this ever so subtle nudging of the fourth wall  - some days...the fourth wall is all I got

and yet one sneeze shatters...

Demons

i)

demons are circling
just behind the fence
waiting

the tired monk sees 'em
pretends not too
waiting


ii)


the tired monk
walks his temple

checks the doors
stout staff thuds
with every step

coupla monk poems

i)

an acre of leaves
aspen, maple, a few birch
raked by one monk

ii)

wind picks-up
could cuts right through
     these monk's work robes


Monk Warmth

layers...sure,
but the secret lies deeper
my old SFDCI sweater
ragged n'warm
tucked under
flapping robes


Leaves

wrote a few poems about these leaves
when they were green, then red, then fallen
now wheelbarrowed forest deep
to nourish new monk poems