Hallway to Nowhere

  • Fires & Floods (Poem)

    The fires await in the world to come.

    But no, the land already burns.

    Beware the floods foretold to sweep the land.

    How so, when mountainsides now wash away?

    Some gleefully add to the flaming pyre,

    Dancing as the ashes scatter on the wind.

    Some open the pipes to add to the waters’ rise,

    Taking axes to the few available boats.

    We want to stare in horror, as they hasten our demise.

    No time for this luxury. No time for reckoning.

    We can only save what we can.

    The task is hard. The hour is upon us.

    Take my outstretched hand; likewise extend yours to another.

  • The Death Of Attachment (Poem)

    Chase after me.

    I turn your desire to dust.

    Make it taste like ashes in your mouth.

    You burn with frenzied passion.

    Search for anything to quieten the heat.

    I am food that never fills you,

    Water that leaves you gasping with thirst.

    Eventually you give up in despair.

    The spaces left by this cavernous indeed.

    Then can you find a path.

    See the faint traces of wiser footprints.

    Everyone has gone before.

    Follow and open your heart.

  • Below & Above (Poem)

    Dark gray branches intertwine,

    Set against the lowering clouds.

    They mirror the tangle of roots

    Hidden in the wet ground.

    As below so above.

    As I trace one serpentine limb,

    It begins to glow then explodes

    Into a metallic hue of industrial neon purple.

    It blazes brighter than the sky.

    I look away, only to see

    Suspended above the trees

    A single leaf.

    It too starts to shine,

    But with a deep indigo blue,

    Vibrating to a hidden pulse.

    Oh, the secret beauty we seldom see.

    But, look! Look!

  • Prediction (Poem)

    Beat. Beat. Beat.

    They bang their drums.

    They fly their flags.

    They plant their cross.

    And all the while,

    Amongst them we walk.

    Some of us are afraid.

    Some of us are angry.

    All of us are threatened.

    We are not them and thus targets.

    We resist in different ways.

    But we are all screaming from the battlements.

    Even if we can only whisper.

    And should our voices all die,

    Remember this:

    They will not live forever.

    They have children.

    Some of these will pick up stones.

    They will hear our cries within these.

    And they will start throwing.

  • Small Gods (Poem)

    I don’t care about your potentate in the heavens.

    Tell me instead about these, the lesser deities:

    Who watch over the weary riders on public transit.

    Who guard the rough walkers of the hidden hours.

    Who consider the disregarded workers in menial jobs.

    Divinities not housed in marbled churches

    To be addressed by ministers in flowing garb.

    Their presence is found in more common spaces.

    The hard plastic seats of the bus.

    The crumbling tarmac on the roadside.

    The bloodied floor of the meat-packing plant.

    No soaring hymns with organ

    That are sung by an amplified choir.

    Only brief prayers of plea and praise.

    Oh lord, let me get home.

    My god, they almost hit me.

    Thank goodness, this day is done.

    Their offerings come not in gilt plates

    Passed amongst the monied hands.

    A glance with a fellow passenger.

    A smile thrown into a car window.

    A greeting on the way out the door.

    Sing love, peace, and goodness

    And bless the small gods.

  • Glory In The Mountains (Poem)

    It was not petrichor, this scent of rain.

    The path as I walked had previously

    Been dampened by nocturnal showers.

    The trees glinted with moisture,

    And the sodden ground muffled my footsteps.

    No, this was the balm of continued precip

    That joined the falling leaves, the cooling winds,

    And the shortening light

    As messengers all of season’s change.

    Glory in the mountains.

  • Tears & Return (Poem)

    What are tears?

    We all carry the ocean within us,

    Salt and minerals and water.

    Perhaps crying,

    Be it joyous or grieving,

    Signals the desire to return

    To this primordial state.

    A wish, unspoken, even unconscious,

    To be as we began.

    May you know you are home

    And be at ease.

  • Mummer’s Jig (Poem)

    Glowing skeletons in neon hue

    Jitter and jangle across the sky.

    They fill the air with discordant shrieks

    Underlaid with a cello drone.

    The universe dances with them in mad lurch,

    And autumn leaves rain to the ground.

    They cover the mountains in fantastic garb,

    Swirling in the chill breeze.

    All this a presentiment: Winter fast approaches.

  • Heart Sutra Tea (Poem)

    I awaken and rise to make tea.

    I take my first sip and then.

    Immediately afterwards that moment expands,

    Stretched apart by unseen hands.

    I step into the opening as I swallow the tea.

    Darkness which is not darkness enfolds me.

    The taste of puer pulls the earth inside.

    We rest in knowledge of primordial ground.

    No beginning; no end; no self; no other.

    I take a second sip and smile.

  • On Reading Homer (Poem)

    When young I would walk,

    Wandering the back streets and alleys.

    But I did not see the asphalt under my feet,

    Nor the begrimed buildings that I passed.

    Instead, I saw the blinding words before me

    Echoing with every step:

    μῆνιν ἄειδε θεὰ Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος
    οὐλομένην…

    Sing the destroying wrath, Goddess,

    Of Achilles, Peleus’ son!

    The creak of wooden ships, the smoke from a burning city,

    And the cries of the dying were all around me.

    No prophet I, yet still possessed,

    Thrown into another world by ancient text.

    Even today, in my dimming years,

    I recall my transport.

    The shattering ecstasy reverberates still,

    Remaining, remaining, remaining.