the Buddha says everything changes: spring light widens into evening, snow falls, melts, falls again, a caterpillar chews through leaves, becomes sole occupant of chrysalis as if taking back misspoken words, transforming curses from turgid grubs into yellow-dotted fritillary fleetness in metamorphosis, speech opens, thoughts are butterflied, and eye and silent tongue in mouth
departures in the rain almost broke down almost spoke your name she was on the cross town bus wearing her hair like yours stopped at erie and ouelette as i walked by one misted night in windsor under a winter rain— she was sitting by the window half obscured by condensation her breath visible like
My Father’s City Reminiscing about growing up in the west end of the city, he never took me there. Cables of streetcar avenues sparked as whales on tracks passed by and made each building shudder, There on a rainy night, lights reflecting on the sidewalks, and the stores that once led different lives, a theatre
Within this husk dwells a timeless essence. Trapped within Einstein’s monstrosity, bonded to his time/space milieu, pulled toward an untimely end. Trapped with eyes that do not close. Forced to watch intimate familiars thrash against the force of time’s relentless current, pushing this form through space’s infinitude. Time is no friend, stealing your youth. Leaving
Anthropic Principles – the universe appears as it does because if it were different we would not be here to observe it – Random House Word Menu. I fail to see you, your sun dog’s counterglow blurs my horizon the chaos that is mine bends the light curvatures of time blue shifts into tears, orbiting
Ordinarily the lightest of sounds Woke him: A car turning the corner Half a mile away; A cat racing across the lawn; A silent scream from Somebody else’s nightmare. But that night of all nights he didn’t stir, Didn’t roll over in a last ditch effort to Escape the disturbance, As if that’s all it
Aanii! Boozhoo! A welcoming salutation to strangers whose long sojourn by jiimaan , driven by billowing clouds, has brought them to our shores. Come, rest upon our mats, shelter yourselves in our lodges, renew your strength with food, quench your thirst with clear, pure water. Creator’s gifts are yours as well. No! Not ours as
Dear Friends, What to be made of situations like these, With precedence most refused to see? When righteous anger now takes place. Where were you when wolves (viewed as sheep) were crying for wolves? Why is it we get acknowledgement now – when their bodies are no longer even cold? How to reconcile from this
Deciduous 2020 In North Hollow we know it usually happens this way. September meanders. A solitary maple in Hubbard’s meadow transforms red before we detect any changes in the canopies hovering the Hollow’s dirt roads. The air chills. In creeps October. Kaleidoscopic colors stain the Hollow’s sky while the maple in the meadow taunts us,
The World is On Fire It’s Hotter Than It’s Ever Been British Columbia’s forests are ablaze burning centuries of growth killing innocent animals threatens the communities the very fabric of the civilization that produced the pollution and caused the greenhouse gases which raised the temperature of our planet. The wind blows plumes of acrid smoke
