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

  • 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

  • Birthday Child (Poem)

    “Dottie At. The Zoo,” 11×14 Acrylic on Canvas 2024, Hattie Hopkins, Dot and Hop Gallery

    as you move through your life

    may you always look for these

    sparkles to catch your eye

    lights to make your feet dance

    ideas that you can tear apart

    to reconfigure in interesting ways

    stick all these things inside your heart

    a kaleidoscope of hopes and dreams

    let this play across the world

    bright with love given and love received

    and never ever fear to be exactly who you are

    (for Dottie)

  • She Held My Hand (Poem)

    a small child learning to walk on the sand

    useful lesson for balance and to learn

    early how to step on ever-shifting ground

    in the persistence of imaginative love

    whenever I became unstable

    she reached for me and held my hand

    so that I did not fall

    who went beside to steady my gait

    it was not her never her someone else always

  • There Will Be No Time Like That Again (Poem)

    we lived in innocence among the dead

    going in and out of the graves

    a finger bone often stuffed inside a pocket

    the deceased did not care so nor did we

    dirt rocks bones ash were all

    objects for wondrous endless play

    only as we became older did we learn

    that rain and tears are the same

    and that a skeletal grin is a fearsome thing

    (in my dreams I still run with storms

    and toss a skull into the sky)

  • Trucks (Poem)

    black armored trucks drive down Main Street

    just passing through for now

    but there are more of them

    and they will stop somewhere in some town or city

    to fulfil their ontological purpose

    not here not yet and you might say not us

    I’ve felt the street shake as they passed

    and have seen the pavement crack beneath their wheels