Tag Archives: Hungry ghosts

Conversations (VIII) — to one haunted by a ghost


Conversations (VIII) — to one haunted by a ghost

The key worked. The locked door opens.
I cannot see the word that troubles you.

Empty bottles line the windows. Looking
Out you are still looking in and the inward

Look is contained and darkens as

Sometimes when a word mispronounced
Shakes its muzzle loose unleashes itself

From its owners’ meaning and ends
Up meaning more as in what I am

Thinking of you away from this ghost

Spring Thunder, Spring Lightning

Spring Thunder, Spring Lightning

Hungry ghosts bang their empty bellies
Who ever said the kettle cares not for the meal?

Trees lean to the earth and touch it like Buddha
asking the grass safe in its smallness to be a witness

That what looks like sorrow is sacred; and on this open
parking lot the rain slides under cars like a sea of snakes

and toward this tree under which I stand for shelter
where the yellow  teeth of monkeys flash behind the leaves