Hallway to Nowhere

  • Mirror Image Thought Experiment

    Invitation: Participate in a thought experiment virtually 

    What: Look into a mirror. Write a few words about what you see in the mirror or feelings/thoughts that arise or even memories that might arise. Anything you wish to note. Any comments, unless marked PRIVATE, will become fodder for poems. 

    Why: About 7 years ago, one of my teachers, a Rinpoche, remarked that none of us has ever seen our own face. So I decided to do an organized event and play publicly with this notion. Art is always more fun in collab!

    When: Oct 18-Nov 18, 2025. The event will take place over 1 month. Should I get decent work out of this, I’ll publish these in a small limited run of a chapbook  and offered for sale, ALL PROCEEDS GOING TO KUNPEN.NGALSO.ORG . 

     I do not profit from my work!

    Send me a message or leave a note in my studio

    Mirror Image Thought Experiment

  • Realization Of Sitting Shiva (Poem)

    no covered mirrors, for she did not die

    still she is torn from me, a kind of death

    these will be my seven days

    cover the windows, lock the doors

    turn off the lights

    when I sit upon the lowest seat

    darkness and silence settle beside me

    companions without judgment or demand

    yisgadal v’yiskadash sh’mei raba

    words arising without ask

    a shawl of comfort connecting me to ancient home

    I weep and am comforted

  • It Is What It Is (Song)

    nighttime is falling and winter is here

    trees are all barren and hillsides are sere

    a hard snow is coming and the wind cuts through

    I cannot reach for her, she’s gone from me now

    it is what it is

    Main Street is empty and restaurants have closed

    a predacious hawk has silenced the crows

    the train sounds a blast as it rushes through town

    it is what it is

    it is what it is

    that’s what we all say

    it is what it is

    the response of the day

    it is what it is

    we shrug and go on

    in truth it says nothing at all

  • The Heart Lags Behind (Poem)

    grief makes it falter

    forgetting of loss again and again

    until this fact settles hard like a stone

    in the the crevice of the body

    love continues its passage now subterranean

    the tumble and flow turning even sharp sadness

    into worn river rock polished by time

    yet still sometimes in the night

    I feel her warm by my side and know

    each moment with her was enough

    eternity itself would not have sufficed

  • How To Walk (Poem)

    an ordinary walk on an ordinary day

    and then

    the road rumbles from unseen force

    the sky darkens with sodden clouds

    the corvids mutter with ominous intent

    any step seems to offer momentous risk

    I could fear could be afraid could choose fright

    instead I laugh at all of this continue on my way

    let unkindness and murder remain with the crows

    weighty drama in the realm of changing weather

    these do not inform nor enforce my path

    these temporary signs are not my directions

  • Even If (Poem)

    I hand you a diamond

    hard cold polished clear faceted

    a jewel beyond price

    I hand you a heart

    soft warm worn pink chambered

    itself also beyond price

    and with these a key that opens a door

    where you find everything

    with which you’ve filled your mind these years

    would you then be happy

    be at peace be able to rest in comfort and ease

  • It Could Be Rain (Poem)

    no month crueler than any other

    nor day nor year nor passing life

    suffering not measured by tablespoons

    not placed upon a balance scale

    what joy weighs against what sorrow

    when they look so much alike

    a tear falls into your hand without warning

    you do not know its source

    wetness revealing neither happiness nor grief

    you can only stare into the sky

    It Could Be Rain (Poem)

  • Self As Haboob (Poem)

    stories layered upon stories

    words swirling like dust in a storm

    narratives constantly shifting

    no self that controls

    no point to be gotten

    no center to be held

    eventually the mad twirl settles

    there once again is the clear light

    morning sun and luminous sky

  • Absence Of Birds (Poem)

    November turns the fields to cold mud

    corvids usually pick through the wet grass

    their eyes sharp enough to cut

    their cries so raucous as to wake the dead

    today no unkindnesses nor murders are to be found in the yard

    and the gray of clouds has seeped into our dreams

    sending us to do desperate things for color

    paint a picture of our wildest hopes

    dance down the street to strut and wail and beat

    amidst the chaos we needs gather more than ever

    find our people, set a table, join hands together

    give thanks to farmers, now let us eat

  • Storage (Poem)

    if the body remembers, then mine holds close

    stories of how to die and return

    to return and die again and again

    such were my first three months and beyond

    thus it has remained

    currently I have fever cough pain

    three months now off and on again and again

    no comforting touch nor sheltering box

    only finally the knowledge that I am not unique

    that everyone is always in a transitional state

    I wrap this understanding around me

    a calming weight to ease my intemperate mind

    and rest

  • Unwrapping (Poem)

    first layer, feeling

    physical here-and-nowness

    constriction of breath

    in and out movement

    each a different nuance of pain

    second layer, noting

    it is like this and this and this

    labels drop away

    dissolving into flow

    inhalation and exhalation

    third layer, resting

    awareness sees itself

    elsewhere a spider takes a step

    and the world trembles