Scar Tissue

Did I tell you about the time I climbed the apple tree, went out onto the thinnest branch and reached for the biggest, juiciest fruit? Did I tell you how loud I screamed when the branch broke and my falling body was impaled on the thicker, sharper bough below me?

The doctors were still digging wood out of my back weeks later. I still have the scar. I used to show it to girls and tell them it was a shark bite. Who’d believe a thing like that? Who’d believe a word I say?

Reached too high,
Fell too far.
Touched the sky,
Feel my scar.


Gone Wylde in the Woods

tree leaves

As I was walking the weyrd woods, all the wylde things of natyure fell from my mynde and scattered themselves into the trees. Left and right, they ran, squealing, into the undergrowth, there to grow fat on the workings of my ‘magination.

A shape seeking shade on my right may have been light on leaves ‘fore my feet fell foursquare on the course. Then, as I looked, that shape shimmered and said to my eyes a troubling tale of terrible woe.

Once was a princess who was waltzed away beguiled by a beast of chameleon charms. His bright coat and handsome face fell to rags and rage once he held her in the foliage by the bottom of the garden. She was never touched again by human hands.

Then were kind and tender villagers who, pulled by the plight of the fair princess lost, found, to their cost, that dark depths ‘tween trees, and spaces so foul that the breeze did not ease them, could snaffle and snare the innocent mares and render their menfolk dazzled and gone.

Their shadows I saw as I passed by the maw of the beast and his feast and the moan of the breeze was the sigh and unease of the villagers searching and losing the princess’s trail again and again.

Hearing their woe, I turned and I fled and I stayed in my bed for three days. And the wylde creatures roamed underneath and before in the dark as I shivered with dread.


So here we are in the green place where we’re at
I am in a room where people are meditating
Very noisy outside, but this room is still
Deep inside, my mind is quite quiet
There is nothing pressing on me
I can surely slow right down
I feel my thoughts reducing
I feel peace descending
Calmness pervading
Going deeper in
Resting now

Look Around

If your back aches
And she is too busy to rub it.
If your neck pains
And she will not give time for you.
If your bowl
Is empty
And remains
Do not think that the world is thus.

Look around:
The cosmos is full of strong backs.
The universe thrums with sound necks.
Bowls are full in many, many places.

Make of this what you will.

Growing On

And if you find yourself
In a peculiar place
Where the sky
Is rather grey
And the land
Exceedingly bare
And the walls
Growing mould
And the floor
Creaking alarmingly
And the ceiling
Seeming as if it could fall.

Don’t stay there.
Don’t linger.
Walk on, my friend.
Walk away to better climes.
Move until the floor
Becomes stable,
The roof stronger,
The sun brighter in the sky
And the land fertile.

For there are more and better places out there.