Wednesday, June 16, 2021


I'm with Holden
ready to head north
a solitary cabin
front door held open
by an acoustic guitar 
for a cooling lake breeze

slow beer buzz...all day
sitting on the deck
oaks and white pines above

on darker days
I think of going further
home to Ireland, maybe Scotland
out far on a point
rugged sea washed
small lonely monk island

Tuesday, June 8, 2021


 some paths are worn
 deep rutted circles
 the same ground pounded
 deep and hard sun baked

some paths are blocked
 black chainlinks barring
 forest walks, rambling dog
 wandering adventures

some paths are crooked
 all roots, stumbling rocks 
 soft sand shifting underfoot
 or swampy mires

some paths are straightened
 by prayers, acknowledgement,
 songs, meditation, kindness
 unconditional hospitality. 

Saint John

 John knows

about scarred up souls,
dodging demons, and lying
about being okay
he's so damn good
at sadness. 
evidence in every song,
every poem, every chord.

bless you brother monk

Wednesday, June 2, 2021


been a monk for just over 10 years
decade of tonsures and robes

up truck driver early
brewing tea
...and french press coarse grind coffee

sweeping, praying...yeah I'm praying right now.
working through daily duties
tending the temple
walking the dogs
playing guitar in the garden
writing/reading sacred poems

shooting hoops in the driveway
reverse layups - robes flying
ignoring the long looks 
as the neighbours drive by