YONDER©

WITHOUT MEASURE

now in the inevitable consequence of birth

comes winter

if only it were warmer again

soft folds of summer

but actually getting hellish lately

charitable giving might well bring a measure of joy

but that will only last so long

the sky is blue here, sometimes

where does it go

in the universal depth of a black hole?

early morning sun exactly right

light sliding sideways through the fence boards

casting slivers on our tool shed

naked branches glowing in the bush beside

stirring patterns of a web stored deep within

a fly caught in the mind's eye

quickly I snap the shutter

SLIDING SCREEN

a eucalyptus tree with pendant leaves

rain glitter

mind in full regalia

speaks silently, knowing illusions

a rabbit runs

bushy squirrel does his break dance

walnuts magically appear

on the back yard fence

the well

emptied for a mathematical potion

was Aladdin's oracle

but soon the bucket will be lowered again

how miraculous!

ALIEN

imagine the Hubble space telescope

with a clip-on telepathic lens

digitized telepathy, and why not?

earth satellites digitize the weather

soon anything electrical will be implantable

in our brains

with Wi-Fi the last bastion of privacy

will be encryption

lacking that, think crazy thoughts

such as this

the lens is already designed, actually

B&H Photo sells it unknowingly

but so far it only works with an adapter

UNLACED

there is no vision here

to make things better

for the getter, friends or whatever

minds create visions

metaphoric eyes

might taste sounds

or smell heat

but the eye knows better

and knows enough

not to claim everything

the mind

knows its sensors parcel pieces

of one reality

that knocks on all doors

until suddenly

the doors disappear!

laughing

“I” was one of those doors!

TRANSFORMATIONS

what we are is shared by everyone

enlightenment comes on its own terms

and no one can do it for another

there are books and guides but basically

no one determines it

no terms describe it

“heaven and earth are overturned”

comes close but misses altogether

like shit drying in the sun

eventually the stench evaporates

ENDLESS

the texture of shingles

in particular, shake shingles

calling forth thatched roofs

rural Japan translating years ago

to temple language

wind, sun, rain, moon weathered words

the reservoir of myths, archetypes, stories shared

carried on a river out of sight until

stirring countless beings

effulgent rising out of depths and flows

ridges in late afternoon

are shingles on a roof

in proof of just this