Baby

Baby

 

A baby rabbit

flushed from the liriope,

still, stares, slips back in

 

The baby rabbit

was the Buddha whom I flushed

from liriope

 

All encompassing

baby Buddha rabbit gaze

summoned me awake

 

This is everything

and nothing, baby rabbit

as still as a stone

 

The Morning Dew

In pride my bare feet crushed the dew

of the morning field, before life taught me

 

I was as the dew, nothing more than mist

that had cooled into a tiny reflective globe

 

I apologize for who I used to be, fleeting

marauder of what I failed to understand

 

Remorse is not the end of wisdom, but yet

it seems a beginning, as I walk mornings

 

That I never imagined, my feet more worn

and yet more tender as I’m beside the point

Wedding Party

late stages of multiple sclerosis

 

we lift the wheelchair

up over the stone entry steps

ruined queen still on her throne

 

we are her wheelchair bearers

who will soon be her pall bearers

 

inside the celebration goes on

full of sound…

 

does she open even an eye,

mother of the bride…?

Ambiguous Privacy

Ambiguous privacy of  poem

 

What no one knows is all mine

 

It shines in my quiet night

 

It stars in my inside sky

 

Song is made well before song

 

It pours out found and lost

The Hordes

I understand very little

but the hordes coming

behind me know so much

 

I admire them and fear them

perhaps a few have kinship to me

are baffled as I was, as I am

 

I count myself fortunate

to see the light that I see,

to see by my own lights

 

The illusion of ownership

barely lingers in me, I belong

to my body, not the reverse

 

There is tenderness for what

is and can be easily abolished.

The dark of violence frightens me

 

The hordes coming behind me

know so much, but do not yet

know how little it is, we are

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