Hallway to Nowhere

  • This Morning (Poem)

    the chant of refuge

    the ring of the bell

    the water hitting the cup

    the leaves in the water

    I cannot make tea

    I cannot break silence

    both rest in themselves

    breathe

  • No Surface Ripple (Poem)

    I sit beside myself, an absence waiting

    not to be filled nor emptied

    just there as another way to be

    I watch as I lift a cup

    seeing thoughts drift here and there

    attended to only as the weather

    no distraction from the tea

    fragrant and green with a vegetal edge

    perfect in this moment

  • When It Seems That (Poem)

    nothing can happen nothing can change

    the morning will always be

    the blast of the train before it blocks the road

    and the crows sharpening their gaze

    remember how heavy time hung in the air

    in the hot afternoon of childhood

    moments dripping like limp leaves from the mimosa tree

    disappearing faster than that one cicada brood

    every labored breath took me forward

    every fall a type of momentum

    early lessons that any route leads somewhere

    even for the dead

  • On Reading Li-Young Lee (Poem)

    and when you walk down the street

    that one line so sharp incisive

    piercing your heart your gut the base of your spine

    you leave a bloody trail

    memories blending with viscera in your wake

    you don’t even realize this until you stop

    then cannot reach for the door

    you are missing an arm a leg a rib or two

    but still stand lost in wonder

    the beauty worth the unseen cost

  • Here I Can (Poem)

    walk across a rainbow street

    without looking both ways at once

    for a truck that will speed to hit me

    eat rich garlic ramen

    so spicy that my mouth goes numb

    and I grab for the can of cool jasmine tea

    dress up down shave my head

    black leather vest

    sardonic gaze and confident gait

    go to a club a bookstore a tea house

    any random shop

    welcome without personal regard

    I can just I can just I can just

    be

  • Appalachian (Poem-#PouncePunk26)

    memories carefully folded just so

    packed between thin layers of mountain sky

    the light behind the ridge as the sun set

    making the trees shine like gold

    not as bright as the love I’ve found

    scattered in these hills and hollers

    stubbornly lodged like Creeper dust

    seeped like water down a steep decline

    healing wounds I thought would never close

    and so when they ask where I’m from

    I’ll call this place home

  • Puffy Corn (Poem)

    it was not the food itself I bought

    but the memory of care

    I was ill and someone made a special trip

    to that store on the edge of town

    for this one thing that helped me

    as I slowly relearned how to eat

    and then you showed a similar attention

    remarkable for this day and time

    with a grin that has always made me glad

    a smile that bids a happy welcome

    such kindnesses might seem small

    but these form the web of the world

    building connections to things unseen

    with unwavering threads of regard

  • Absurd Existence (Poem-#PouncePunk26)

    I often feel made of grief

    a container for the world’s tears

    the mourning that runs wild

    at the first realization of loss

    I accepted this task early

    designed my shell for this job

    a fragile human carapace

    with sharp humor for protection

    and laughter threaded through

    for this absurd reason I was born

    for this absurd reason I did not die

    for this absurd reason I exist

  • I Do Not Hike (Poem-#PouncePunk26)

    but today I will put on my shoes

    and walk until I am gone

    away from the chatter the back and forth

    the busy rumble of any town

    walk through the trail with its trees and birds

    quieter sounds but noise even so

    walk until I have disappeared into stillness

    one step then another then no more

  • Demolish (Poem-#PouncePunk26)

    the cup shattered on the floor

    one sharp fragment in my hand

    its celadon slightly tinged with red

    in silence I pour tea over the scards

    then kneel amongst the wet debris

    and with the heavy tetsubin’s base

    smash each piece into dust

    no kintsugi dreams this day