Weekly Post #4

October 17

Changing diapers

bathing, reading books aloud -

Bodhisattva work.

October 18

Boddhisattva work:

eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, mind

bowing and sitting.

Bodhisattva work:

hands to hold, stories to hear

bills and debts to pay.

This mind is birdsong

is mother and child reading

wind and trees dancing

Earth and rain meeting

embracing, kissing in such

frenzied lovemaking.

Hard conversations

hearts stripped naked and blooming

in Kannon's embrace.

Shadows on the wall

and above the ceiling light

shines like the full moon.

Irritation is

a raincloud crossing the sky

the full moon still shines.

October 19

Drowsiness descends

like a blanket; still the child

refuses to sleep.

October 20

Moss, soil, gravel, grass

welcome the falling flowers

Just then a bell sounds.

Just then a bell sounds

from the neighbor's house, it seems

Mind is a bell's sound.

Mind is a bell's sound

a rooster's crow, the dance of 

tree leaves in the wind.

Tree leaves in the wind

are invited to come play

on this yoga mat.

On this yoga mat

the universe meets itself

Just this, nothing more.

Oh the pouring rain!

The many arms of Kannon

embracing the world.

Make love to me like

the rain falling from the sky

making rain-music.

Making rain-music

is just the rain's true nature

expressing as rain.

May I be the rain

that pours equally on all

embracing, loving all.

Sky, rain, earth are one

undivided flowering

rainy-day blossom.

Sky, rain, earth, me - one

undivided flowering

skyrainearthme.

October 21

To sit as just this

undivided flowering

upholds the Precepts.

Everyone is here

and we are never alone

Inseparable!

Late afternoon blooms

right before my very eyes

like a waking yawn.

October 22

Sun and watch can make

a moon shine inside the house

It's no magic trick.

It's no magic trick

this unfolding, flowering

undivided world.

Undivided world!

No tricks, just  this miracle

of livingdying.

October 23

seven o' clock sun

streams gently through the screen door

the dogs exchange barks.

The dogs exchange barks

as the seven o' clock sun

peers through the tree leaves.

Sunlight and tree leaves

form a backdrop for all the

orange-red flowers.

Weekly Post #3

October 9, 2012

What is this feeling

that pervades the noise and silence

this mountain sadness?

October 11, 2012

feet massaging back

we lie under the covers

outside the band plays

outside the band plays

and the night air hums along

droopy eyelids close

October 12, 2012

a single flower

lies on the pavement.  Inside:

the Friday morning.

Above the fan whirls

cooling mosquito-itchy

legs.  Sofa-sitting.

October 13, 2012

This bottle of beer
tastes of music and singing
and a gig well-played.

October 14, 2012

Late afternoon heat

clings tightly to sweaty skin

Boy eats his guava.

Boy eats his guava

and pretends to read aloud

Rooster crows nearby.

Sun, wind and tree are

making shadows on the wall - 

Afternoon ballet.

Sunday afternoon

wind and tree dance the tango

outside the window.

October 15, 2012

Scheming and restless

this monkey mind of mine is

Look!  A banana!

Look!  A banana!

A peach!  A thought, a daydream - 

Jump monkey mind, jump!

A toy in each hand

the boy sleeps curled to one side - 

a sleeping Buddha.

The urban night sounds

sing in harmony with this

monkey mind's ramblings.

monkey mind's ramblings

and outside, karaoke:

not two and not one.

I just want to melt

like ice cubes under the sun

into the mattress.

October 16, 2012

I could do without

your constant mantra

of "God will bless you"

whenever we talk

of money.  Are you

truly this naive?

Your mantra does not

warm or help me sleep

(I'm sure you sleep well

though)

It's like listening

to a lullaby

sung off-key and loud

It's as if we were

lost at sea and you,

clinging to me tight

as I struggle to

keep our heads above

the water's surface,

try to cheer me on

when all I want is 

for you to shut up

and swim before we

both drown!

Sitting, sofa-dust

arises - interdependent

origination!

Sunlight and watch make

full moon appear on white wall

Child laughs in delight.

Weekly Post #2

October 2, 2012

Coughs pierce the silence
in this air-conditioned room
feverish child sleeps.

October 3, 2012

a happy picture:
young boy sits on the mattress
pretending to read.

pretending to read

he amuses his father

then, a sleepy yawn.

this is just BLAH BLAH!

the motorcycle's roar outside 

is more articulate

FURTHERMORE:

far more eloquent 

than this pretentious poet

are the bedroom walls!

October 4, 2012

Meds, ice, and water

nurse patient illness are one:

Sick-child Dharma.

Sick-child Dharma:

nurse patient illness are one

child sings in his sleep.

construction workers

kids playing - the sounds of life

and now: coffee time!

And now: coffee time

the brew tastes of monks farming

coffee and praying.

Coffee and praying

are two hands pressed in gassho

not two and not one.

Gray skies in puddles

raindrops, pine needles, litter

this trail walks me.

This trail walks me

the rough ground meeting my feet

with each step I take.

With each step I take

the mountain arrives bringing

gray skies in puddles.

October 5, 2012

My child in his sleep

curls up close to his mother.

Cloudy-sky mind.

October 6, 2012

Cloudy-sky mind

but whether cloudy or clear

sky is always blue.

Sky is always blue

be it clear or cloudy

dew drop reflects the moon.

October 7, 2012

branch leaves wind birdsong

sun cloud rain blue sky - just this

dance dancing itself.

The red bicycle

stands to one side while next door

the churchgoers sing.

Falling leaves descend

through the sunday morning as

the boy waters plants.

And so here we sit

sucking lollipops, watching

sun-sky-tree puddles.

Sun-sky-tree puddles

formed as you watered the plants

like the leaves falling.

I'm a begging bowl

humbly accepting these gifts:

tree, cloud, bird, sky, sun.

the laundry drying

TV telling its story

almost time for lunch.

October 8, 2012

The vendor's loud cry

contains the whole neighborhood

taho-ooo TAHO!

Hungry-ghost echoes

of illness death healing

these walls hear them all.

these walls hear them all:

hope, fear, health, illness, death, life

Thousand-armed Kannon.

Thousand-armed Kannon

waving her arms and dancing

in this corridor.

fan light and shadow

dancing together in time

to Kannon's music.

She lies on the couch

as he plays with his train set

a yawn engulfs me.

The Honey Sutra: Dharma of The Hundred Acre Wood

Thus have I heard:

Deep in the Hundred Acre Wood

the stuffed bear was walking

while his tummy kept reminding

him that they were hungry

because - 

in case he'd forgotten - they hadn't had any honey.

He burst into song:

"Everything is honey

and life is very sweet"

This is no other than truth, as the Heart Sutra says

But take care:

Do not turn this matter into a Bisy Backson!

"The Backson!  Where?  Run!  Hide!" 

the stuffed animals cry in panic.

Ahem!

What did I just say about not turning this matter 

into a Bisy Backson?

Shush Owl and Rabbit!  Your minds

are bouncier and trouncier than

bouncy trouncy Tigger.  You would dig a pit

when all you need is to wake up and taste the honey.

"Honey?"

Yes, Pooh.  Honey.  The taste of life is the taste of honey

It pervades the bitter, sour, spicy, salty and the bland.

It is the sweet/non-sweet, honey/non-honey

Not two and not one taste!

But hearing this an Owl would only make

a Backson -

"The Backson!"

Shush!

And a Rabbit would only dig

a pit

And a Tigger would only bounce

on his tail.

Just taste this!

However little bear, take care:

Having tasted this, nevertheless

Do not linger here.

Go back to the Hundred Acre Wood

where your tummy

grumbles for honey

where Christopher Robin

and your friends long to play with you.

This is the Way of the Honey.

Weekly post

September 26, 2012

The crunch of footsteps
joins birds and crickets in song.
Workers head for home.

Workers head for home

and along the mountain road

vehicles roar by.

Vehicles roar by

the store owners sit and watch.

A single bird flies.

The fan's gentle whir

speaks volumes of poetry.

This heart is breaking.

This heart is breaking

in time with the evening's song.

The whole world is here.

The whole world is here

in the curtain's dancing to

the fan's gentle whir.

Lego bullet train

with animals riding on top

The young boy is engrossed.

September 27, 2012

The babbling babble

of travelers and TVs:

Buddha's very robe.

September 28, 2012

Such fragile dewdrops

we all are...

Oh such weariness!

While waiting to board the plane

Two hearts await me.

Two hearts await me

with arms outstretched in welcome.

Meanwhile, this long line.

A hand closes - look!

A fist!  A closed fist opens

Look!  An open hand!

The ocean dances

and waves rush to meet the shore

Gassho!  Bodhi Svaha!

City lights below

make up Buddha's very robe

Countless small stitches.

Such a fleeting thing,

this pretty flight attendant

passing through the aisle.

Passing through the aisle

with pearls in her ears, she smiles.

Such a fleeting thing.

Such a fleeting thing,

like the shining dew at dawn,

with her dazzling smile.

September 29, 2012

My drooping eyelids

carry the weight of the world - 

Stuffy-nosed dharma.

September 30, 2012

Sunday afternoon

is gray clouds, neighbors talking,

lying on the floor.

Lying on the floor,

cool tile under thin mattress,

the neighbors' laughter.

The neighbors' laughter

comes floating in, becoming

Sunday afternoon.

Just this, here and now

the fan drying my sweat:

this is my refuge.

This is my refuge:

the cold tiles under my skin

the blue sky outside.

The blue sky outside

is my very mind being

just this, here and now.

October 1, 2012

This heart is breaking

in the quiet evening air.

The stillness, it speaks.

The stillness, it speaks

of moon and stars and dark sky,

of the night's embrace.

October 2, 2012

Tiredness pervades

every inch of the dark night.

It will be dawn soon.

It will be dawn soon

the rooster says, and the mosque

chants in agreement.

Just This, The Bell's Song

Just this, the bell's song:

ringing sunrise, offering

flowers on a plate.

Flowers on a plate

are precisely the teaching

of butterflies' wings.

Of butterflies' wings

what can be said?  Ching!  Ching!  Ching!

Just this, the bell's song.

September 25, 2012

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Welcome to my weekly poetry and haiku blog.  How did this come about?  Well, just last week I decided to commit to writing at least one haiku a day.  Needless to say that on that day I ended up writing the three above, plus one other poem (which I'll post below).  And I've been averaging more than one a day ever since.  Which is nice - although I don't doubt there will be one-haiku days every now and then.  Anyway, I have decided that every week I'll take what I've written so far and post it here.  Hope you enjoy, don't take it too seriously, there's nothing intellectual or "artsy" or "high culture" about this stuff.  In a way, it's just a part of my Zen practice, a way of ensuring that I pay attention to my life as it unfolds.  

Which sounds really mystical and Thich Naht Hahn now that I read this - no disrespect to Thich Naht Hahn, by the way, it's just that the last thing the world needs is someone who's not Thich Naht Hahn trying to sound like Thich Naht Hahn.  So my apologies.  Like I said, don't take this seriously.  Read the words, chew, swallow, digest, then shit them out and flush the toilet.

Rafael Ayala

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It is closer than you think,

more intimate

How foolish to call this beautiful

and that ugly!

Like prying apart

hands pressed palm to palm

Or interrupting a couple's

lovemaking

Show some respect!

Bow down!

And when you forget yourself

then will this "YOU" appear

Actually it neither appears

nor disappears - rather

It is like opening your eyes

and seeing.

September 25, 2012