It’s Good to Know Where Things Are

Where is the stream in the pines
That calms beasts it can’t see there?

Where is the wind in the leaves
That can’t hear its own sweet airs?

Where is the the moss in the shade
That can’t know how soft it feels?

Where is the calm of the soul
That can’t care less souls aren’t real?

The Great Rift

Is not a rift at all—is
Dust, dark not as a gap, but
Dark as dust with light in back.

We have free will when we want
Free will, since we love free will
And we want it. Who wants, will.

If You Ask

The world what world is,
It laughs in its sleeves.

Waves drift through the waves,
Drift on drift of waves—

Hills like clouds, like smoke,
Clouds like cliffs, like birds—

Surf breaks foam from waves,
World too fond of waves.

We Live in No Time

Think of how sad it would be
If the whole, blue Earth went pop

In the night—not one life left
To be sad, not one life left

To eat lives, feed lives, and die.
No genes, no Zen, no deep woods,

No wars, no births, no hive minds.
Think, have our eyes, too, seen this

Once, twice, more—one of the worlds
Out there in the dark went pop.

We did not know it went, of course.
Worlds will not know if ours goes.