Rural Mistake (day 2898)

A rural mistake
Guarded by bats
Unconsciously sniveling
At the raw oysters
Sitting on the table
One spoke a word
That called out in a jest:
“How dare you speak
Of trash in such a tone!”
So the mail was gathered
Street was paved
Lawn was mowed
And the car was deiven
Straight off the cliff.

Spoons of Sorrow (day 1959)

When I walk into an empty room
When I reach my palms for the sky
As essence, I’m a ghost
And sunrise brings tomorrow
With ten thousand spoons of sorrow.

I am a prophet in a rose
With two hands tied by thorns,
Fence posts painted white
Along dew kissed morning lawns.

When I sit amidst thousand year old trees
When I wave crookedly in heaven’s winds
My heart becomes a dead leaf
Integrating so effortlessly into a path
Dust to soil to earth to spring.

So long shall my stalk bend
Two ends of a hemp string crossed,
Seeds falling on gray wood
And harvest moon is my birth.

Drained and Bled (day 722)

Refined the madness will walk away
At seasons end to sell your hay
Share the sun, enjoy each day
But don’t get lost along the way

Then if the last straw be drawn
Finding you left standing on the lawn
No goods leftover to be pawned
It will be sorrow; all sun be gone

It’s known it’s fearful inside this head
Laughter spinning around the bed
The makeshift scarecrow: no wit, dead
No roof to shelter, no home to stead

But not all’s lost when wits have fled
A lone wild grouse found and bled
Enough to feed and safely tread
At least for a little while, to ease the dread