tight

things are getting tight
roads widen, ditches deepened
trees cleared for new houses...
...mansions in this case

fox has to wander up close
skirt the edge of the monastery yard
edging his way home
through the remnant woods

a lunch time script

monks gathered
under spring flower boughs
eating a light lunch
   suddenly still

in a spell of time
chatter and discourse resumes

novice: "what was that?"

tired monk: "just an angel passing by"

n: "do you do the same with demons?"

tm: "nah...we ignore em...
         drives em crazy."


the tired monk

of prophets and pick-up trucks

truck rolled up
window rolling down

"hey monk
...the Apocalypse has started
   it is happening now
   for some people
   the ones out on the edge
   seems like slow motion to us friend,
   but it is on God's time, yes God's time
   ...anyway just thought you'd wanna know."

truck peels out
laying a muddy rut
all the way up the shoulder
one last honk and a wave,
as the prophet turns the corner.

retreat

somewhere in Montana cabin
a full three miles past the last power post
tucked up on the tree edge
beside cool rocky creek water
rough hewn timber and stone
invisible from down the mountain

inside a bed, a table, a bookshelf
1972 edition of playboy
yellowed Kurt Vonnegut novels
 a Holy Bible
polaroids fall to the floor
pics from a party
moonshine jars and guitars
mugging it up for the camera

 - down in the town I was told some "movie type"
    used to own this cabin

later a nighttime fireside read
sleeping dog's rest disturbed
by mountain goat scuffles
candles flicker n'fade
running red wax down
the Mateus bottle

glimpses

it's those glimpses
the ones that show you
"the way it's supposed to be"
 the eternal
the ones that overwhelm
induce tears
  then fade again into
the tugging sadness