[ARTS]: Big and Little Poetry--free verse, any verse.

[Hosai]

夢醒丑刻 (Musai Chūkoku)

The night after the polar bear gave me a sniff
I just let go and said "do your worst"
I cycled 1300 km and stayed at a temple on Shikoku
I waited a bit and then my friends showed up
Yukon in full kesa was surprised by the big hug
It turns out they did open that temple in the middle
of the fire. He did eventually realize his goal!
So happy for him and for all of us.

_/\_
hosai

[Tai Shi]

Tall Mountain

I sat in the morning's mountain
Tall Mountain Pass, sitting ever
Each morning at 6:05 a.m. gather
Thought to release, to live by,
To walk this way to our Shikantaza,
To our reverence, to our wisdom,
To be one, out of one, leaf lying
On the ground, we pick it up.
Wonder of no thought, or wonder,
We are one, one people, one
Flower, one wisdom taught
In the community, one, three, three
One, Buddha, one Dharma, one
Sangha, how to realize oneness
One being, everyone, being
Flower bloom, there is no sex,
Only bloom, only flower, we have
Come this long, long long way
The path of wisdom of teaching
Of community, Then for life, then
For honesty, then for tenderness
All resurrected in morning dew,
In the essence of water, of humility,
Of Equanimity, come to sun rays
Filling science, of knowledge, mini
Wonderful, largeness, tiny study
Matter, study beyond the atom, beyond
Hydrogen, beyond Helium, beyond,
Axis of matter, energy, liquid, solid,
State electron, ever looking beyond
What we give to reality, speed, motion
Individual beings, the essence of reality,
Reality caught in a reflex of time, of notion
Broken chain of being, of wonder, how
To move in solid gas, liquefy each sub-atomic
Particle, sand castle in billions, of billions
In divisible, cutting, wonder, wonder
Of wonder, motion through time, energy,
Gone into universal suns, each infinitesimal,
Sight, rods, cones, retina, humanity
Largely relativity, time, and solid motion--
This is our visible galaxy, galaxies infinite,
Stop the music, morning, noon, evening,
Night, morning, back to the wonder of the infinite.

Gassho
deep bows
lah/sat

[Tai Shi]

gassho
lah/sat

[Tai Shi]

The poem deals specifically with quantum physics and the paradox of ordinary matter in the universe.

[Hosai]

橙翁終幕 (Tōō Shūmaku)

I spent the evening in a boardroom
Just down from the oval office
Just me, Baron, an aid named Nick,
And of course the asshole-in-chief himself
Only, He wasn't that much of an asshole
And he was often really funny and nice
He seemed to really like me and my jokes
We talked very informally, like human beings
I was diplomatic and told him what I thought
I told him about the comparisons to Hitler
And he shook his head and said he hated that
My mother had been a politician
We talked about different slogans for him to use
He liked the advice I gave him and explained
"Sometimes the world needs an asshole"
The rot in Washington was controlled by money and which could only be obliterated and built anew with money
For better or for worse the globalists grip was loosening
I told him I had protested, the G7, the WTO and IMF
I told him I had protested the destruction of ma and papaw
I'd taken pepper spray, zip tied, hogtied
And thrown in the back of a van
Maybe it was time to watch it all burn
But why would this nice orange Grandpa
Be left holding the flaming bag of shit that was America?
Because they knew this was the end stage
And their bunker was finished 4 months ago

_/\_
hōsai

[Tai Shi]

Weak Is My Body

I am weak, I am big Of another
Verse, any verse, I am a Poet dear!
Now my name is clear. Then Tai Shi
Away, I panic within a sphere, listen

Once again, panic in my name, for
Tai Shi? Quick now, once again, let--
Be calm poetry, did Zoom lock me out?
Once I took for granted Zen teachers,

My teacher, all teachers, lest I
Forget, Lest I forget my splintered
Neck, Ankylosing Spondylitis, now!
Then, my future unto death, life

Profound, pain every moment, away.
Arthritic back, knees gone, identity
Of rarity, this is every day, please
Give me more time, Am I ready?

I am disabled, told not to lift more
Everywhere, 15 pounds, 5 kilos comes
Round, I push my limits, this simpleton,
Could the undoing of my sharp vertebra

Finally, I have bought new shoes, to
Help my swelling feet, anticipation
This is a rare earth. Rare diseases kill.
Let me find again what dear Marjorie

Said. She told me long ago, "You should not
Lift more than 14 pounds. Give
Yourself some room." There are reasons
I ( became a poet). I am not strong,

My body stings among dispositions
Of relic,, My rheumatologist says,
"Your disease is getting worse,
Don't be surprised if you come

To a wheelchair, or back to walker,
Push yourself around, be good to yourself.
Again physical therapy." The first she
Has been kind to me in a while.

I am frightened beyond my normal
Mood. My hands change, too; with
Broken pain when I type, with difficulty!
Day reveals more somedays I may not

Write. anger pain surges, in my thumbs
With my rigid fingers, "I push on,
On to where? what is beauty?" I ask.
"No one can tell me. My hot fingers

Press keys. Do I destroy, do I maintain
The index finger of my right hand is
Death-defying hands, writing blood
Under my skin. I push my aching digits on."

Gassho
lah/sat

[Kaitan]

Spining a fidget spinner
keeps me busy
spinning the shinny and smooth ring
around my thumb
a gift from grandma
I love her



stlah, Kaitan

[Tai Shi]

Freedom of Disability

Today I find lectures
Of cognitive behavior
Full of laughter, ideally
Gone from yesterday’s
Fourteen below zero F,
So in warmth I am like

Men on whaleboat in 1800s
We jar, we turn this capture
Boat meets spray, salty air.
Every wind across Pacific
Ocean, I know oceans of poetry,
Have I seen both anger, kindly,
Read of despair but Today I
Know I shall live long, prosper
Without labor, escape indignity
Of our country, work, labor

From manual strain, escape this
Reward of disability, why by
Thought of life, I be on whaling boat
Aching I have known indignity,
Of course I will be in your presence
Dreams are my love for you
We are dying to be friends with
Our past enemies work for blood
I know the answer be what
Not why, not work, sigh back
Wait I don’t work except our child
At spring chatter, scribe now
Of paper more than paper
Electronically mind over matter,
She knows poetry, my gift to her,

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy
Simply cut lose from right
Shoulder to left, I am free, more
Love in me, I am not alone
I don’t have to strain every
i have no crime for I will be free,
Of labor because of arthritis
In my body race towards pain,
Muscle, shatter my own bones
Blinding—chasing these great

Humpbacks, oil not needed
For my lamp, I rest my head
On my air pillow, rest tonight
Spring be reality for me, let
Me see green wavelets in majesty
Of this depth, this salt mist flung
By whaling boats, I am free, I
Have no work because I am
Disabled, rough across my calling

Given name Charles, now become
Tai Shi, in Japanese, calm poetry,
Peaceful Poetry, I am thankful
That like some women don’t
Have to grind what I have, bones
Where I am free to write poetry.
Marriage, fatherhood, laughter’s
Reality of Life, my passion for poetry
This same gift to my wife and daughter
Words of truth, figures of life. Poetry’s
Own edifying story about how we
Write our hearts in our own blood.

Gassho
lah/sat

[Tai Shi]

What of Me

She said "I am no one,
who are you?" We sit
and wonder what it does
What just sitting does
To the mind, to the soul
If there be a soul, to heart
Body, blackened for fire
Creased this other mended
Rakusu has me as a given
The ultimate gift, one I asked
For, why ask, he gave freely
He is a priest, he is tired
I am old, I am carding, to walk
Away from fire, recompose
Poem about me friend
空, こくう, kokū, empty space
Empty sky, Kokua, one
Who serves,虚空, こくう, kokū
Which is it? Empty Space,
Empty Sky and another
Kokua, one who serves,
My ultimate thanks, poem
Wish were here, he slowly
Is friend, and many, many
Call him a "friend one who
Serves, one who is empty
Space, Empty Sky," this man
Who meets with me
Once a month, who
I look to who is my
Young brother, not he who
He is a Priest, one who serves,
Kokua, Kokuu, empty
Space, Empty Sky.
虚空, こくう, kokū
May I know when
When you go away
When to hide my Rakusu,
When to be, not be
I am he who brings the picture
Of my rocks in Hartford,
In Sioux Falls the falling water.
We are serene, we are Rakusu,
As I show my daughter's
Academic Regalia, what I
Have to offer Kokuu
My friend of openness.
Doctor of Philosophy
In Biology, in spirit
My friend
Who teaches me?

Gassho
lah/sat
Tai Shi
Peacefully

[Kokuu]

That is beautiful, Tai Shi. Thank you, my friend

[Kokuu]

These are two poems from my friend Robert Leith-Rivers, also now known as Fo Cang, who was previously a member of Treeleaf. He just published a book of poems called Songs to Raise the Sun which is available from Amazon.

Become the Flags

To wave the flags
on every house
deep yellow and dark orange
wave the flags with trumpets
wave them on the horses’ backs
on the hilltops wave the flags
have them wave like their waving makes the sun rise every day
and forget
that the moon, planets, and stars
do not make the earth their center


Street Song

Street song of the violin
the bucket draws
the notes
like it draws the change which chimes

Bluejay never knew
It had such a rich blue coat


Gassho
Kokuu
-sattoday/lah-

[Tai Shi]

This Death of Why

Tai Shi sits quietly in the mornings at 6:05 with Shokai,
Wonders what he is doing, with his life, strife broken
With Rakusu, he is given into his tumor or cut bones
On the right side of the skull. Wondering if this is the week,

My friend of nine years? Are we sitting wondering why? We come
Close to death. Let me wonder, too, if your stroke? I shall sit and cry,
Finding death sooner. Let me sigh through many days
Colored window, these scattered rainbows, stained in you

Speeds through your town, Earling for yours into the Nurse
Practitioner, Iowa, 350 so population. or Me? I'm not so
Lucky, we know what high singing is for me, Internal Medicine
Low singing Doctor? My voice is gone, reputation of song,

For Friendships, for many days I lie next to her now, oxygen
Singing not for any friend of what, I'm finally with my wife
Not in notes alone, wife high or low, in-between, we are
Just so; we sing of poetry, poetry of heart for you

Buddhism with a single wedge between my Siddhartha
Your wonderment is yours, is friendship, then is what?
Divides us, nothing but wisdom for you, Thich Nhat
Hanh. Verses, Little, I have taught you verses of little poetry,

Big, so how do I make free verses, known friendships, nothing but
Stroke. From Hartford, 3000 plus, your vanishing death, Please
People, no one: my heart aches except yours is stark,
Except you talk to folks. talk of the Unitarian Universalist any verses

You are your Encrusted, we wonder why your stroke is simply
Not of Christian strains, the violin of Christ in this vanishing
Death divided Interbeing. Not in our visible Buddha--
Christ is one person, not three. Wonderment of one eternal

Group of men? Brought to friendship, yours and mine talk on the phone,
See ours on Zoom is Eucharist, division of wafer, Baptism of fire, Dakota
People, Lakota water wine, deep Brine of dignity gone in hanging
Noise, any water, some water, woes of death, drowned are Nakota

Me into righteousness? Nothingness, into my baptism of sitting
You and I speak often of death? Often down under our Strong Waters,
Death divides this friendship. church, this gracious God gone
Of water Communion, my grace ever gone again: we sit in sin next

To speak not of the burden of bliss, down to death, yours is wind this
Burden is yours, he is just a man, Jesus Christ, he is not God
You and I are men who live like Jesus in this dust of planetary
Rest. We will die like his cross, like his being gone away. Die often!

We will be born again in flames, burned, like his lake of fire
Eternal burn. I wish to grow to age 85, why would you go away?
No more than at 75; don't want to go sooner, why should you
Go? What sort of division do you know? Why am I unto death?

We still give our friendship population 350 people, 3000 people, people
Sit in Hartford, why my sort of town; is this where we live in lust?
In Earling, you have friends, I have moved away. Now Gone
Live in an area of 250,000 people, Sioux land! Natives hanged,

Here is Indigenous. Each tumor is my brain gone mine, my mistake
The more common your stroke, you and I stand still, no more death,
One in my town, or you in your town, we have gone away. We sit now
At this time next week, 5:30, we will be shown calling each other

On phones, then Zoom, each is yours, visible, quietly all afternoons,
I type poetry of self, you type quietly on your computer!
Mine is loud wonderment because I want to live to 85. Why
More than you? Seeing others go to the moon or Mars reminds

Us both, we want this moon or Mars, never more alone,
Then Elon Musk? Division in government, destroy members,
This conflict of interest, the internet, we care for the rocket reactor,
Galileo, division of this atomic power, as kids in dreams,

Of NASA making real for us, not Elon Musk, dividing towns,
Never more than a government gone or alive, not splintered,
Broken down, taken apart to give to him his Star link money?
Billions of dollars, instead go to the moon or Mars?

We cannot wait for a tumor or a stroke, with arthritis or hearing
Loss. our bodies are old, no priestly garment or division
Of dust, life must keep us apart, we live 160 miles, gone into dust
Down the road, the moon or Mars is not ours; all is gone!

Gassho
sat/lah