Honey spirals warm in teacup;

"Yes," her smiling shy eyes whisper;

Featherbed's pale blue sheets;

Hair sweet as autumn apples;

Breast-touch silken-soft,

Nipples rise in throbbing light;

A red-orange harvest moon.


Slow rain, wet-black earth;

Yellow maple, oak leaves glowing gold;

Raindrops click-tick poncho ears;

Evening moist-air cool on cheeks;

Woodsmoke curling snowdust pines.


Wander-wondering

The youngman years,

Lost behind my questing sight:

Who knows these things?

Can I know the knower, too?

Or

Am I but a vain and harried void,

Sentient, noisy, transient, meaningless?


Paying attention,

Gathering substance,

Calling it Self —

I drank the wine,

Smoked the grass,

Kissed the girls,

Played guitar,

Read the books,

Scribbled words,

Collected friends,

Signed the deals,

Made a name,

Escaped the fear —


For all of that,

The more I knew,

The less.

And so I gnashed

And wept,

And sighed,

And finally shrugged,

And shed those leaves —


Music,

Words,

Pictures,

Friends,

Faces,

Places,

Triumphs,

Sorrows,

Medals,

Names,

All the rest —


The-might-have-beens,

Worst and best;

The could-have-beens,

Hopes and dreams;

The should-have-beens,

Regrets.


Except for true love

(Not a thing possessed,

A state of being, lived)

I stripped the past away,

And stand here

Naked as a baby in the cradle.


I turned but once to ask,

"What was all that about?"

Now I see,

Without a nanosecond's mindgap:


A cup of tea, spiraling honey,

Smiling shy eyes whispering "Yes,"

Autumn evening's quiet black-earth rain,

Yellow maple, golden oak leaves,

Woodsmoke, snowdust,

Featherbeds

And

Breast-touch love,

Apple-sweet and gentle,

Bathed awash

In the throbbing glow

Of a red-orange harvest moon.

Alpha/Omega/O(ne)

HEARTBEAT ZENSONG