The Monk's Guitar

the Monk pulls
out his guitar

rusty

like an ancient sword
in need of care

Young Monks

a young monk went missing
found
down by the garden
I bristled and chastised
red faced - shaking robes
tongue whip waving
why aren't you removing suckers,
weeding, picking out rocks - novice?

young monk looked up
I'm picking out the rocks from my heart.

low bow and move on, back to the temple

Fighting Monk

some of the young novices
swing fists
kick bite
sting first so as to not get stung

old robes fly to block, envelop bloody fists
the monk knows
his fists used to rise often

Burning Monk

feet burned
in a sandal pattern
robes are wet through
with sweat and lake water
tonight I'll ride the heat lightning

Canadian Monk

going down to 11
a Canadian June
only here
in these woods

throw the robes
up over the shoulder
bundled
for this late night forest walk

Flip Flopped

old boss?
no young
a youth promoted
up into the Abbott's rooms

a night he slips
into monks robes
the cloak of the novice
walks among us
his flip flops
give him away

Boss Ghost

boss slides down the path
walks the hall
haunts the office
wrapped in the old master's robes
us monks, we know