BETWEEN TWO PINES /
Fellows of Poetry Dōjō.
Bodhi.Diane Langley.V. Huntress.Stephanie Squibb.Fa Hsing Jeff Miles.Zenju Earthlyn Manuel.
Students of Small Silences.
Kokuu Andy McLellan.Owen Swain.Shirin McArthur.
Featured guest poets.
Frank LaRue Owen.Jason Deatherage.
all that’s bloomingin the empty field:cloud-shadows
full of silence — the old temple bell
— Fa Hsing Jeff Miles
mourning dove song —for a moment the worldpainted pink
— V. Huntress
rain on the sky light melts into silence
— Diane Langley
fadingwith the twilight —raven-song
waiting for a poem: steam risesfrom my tea
a walled garden within quiet o p e n i n g
— Owen Swain
at sunset watching the watcher —sound of waves
sun teasing the skin bone stillness
— Stephanie Squibb
whiteouta crow callsthrough the mist
— Kokuu Andy McLellan
cut calla lilyalone —at least there is water
— Zenju Earthlyn Manuel
shattered feathersacross the stones full belly
— Shirin McArthur
missing orchid blossom —sudden loss
no wind no soundholding stillnesshawk appears
— Diane Langley
night sitting —dawn breaks tothe first bird call
a piece of mirror reflects —flutters against the walls
bird with glass wingsat evening zazen
scent of magnoliaon the breeze —petals rain down
hawk’s presence at the feeder keen awareness
morning moon —leaving
blanketing the fieldwith redbud petals:spring hail
— V. Huntress
before saying too much —I toss myself out of the window
catkins floatingslowly downward—wind chimes
This body of dust blows about in night winds.Somehow, after dreams,the poet’s dreaming body returns to its roost.Eyes open, I am grateful for morning birdsong.
— Frank LaRue Owen
meditation bell—the sunset air fillswith bird song
A bird nest made from old prayer flags.Someone finally found a real usefor those stale old sutras.
— Jason Deatherage
foggy morning —an apologetic crow breaks the silence
spring —if only in a jar
warm handslingering pu erh — one bright jewel
To know the delicate expression of a dandelion is to know the nature of all things.
doing nothing the wind blows —all things are known
early spring a windy afternoon— the unbroken sound
flowers givenand taken away —spring rain
swept awayby a river of thoughtI walk upstreamand return to the source
— Fa Hsing
wind grows cold — deep echoing sky
bird shadows — painting ensōs in the field
a departing butterfly —awakened in time
who is the architect of a tree in winter?
searching for meaning in the flames
contemplating the essence of flowers:
listening to flowerswhisper through a dream —we bow to each other
following breath into silence
through cloudsmountains still appear 10,000 feet below
diving —the hawk meetsits shadow
chimes — a lonely songin the rain
transparent light on the curtain — breathless
moving inand out of the light —train ride
A Saturday night in August. My grandmother lay dying on a hospital bed. I don’t want to face it. I turn away and stare out of the tenth floor windows at a formation of clouds. A storm is on its way. I realize something and turn back. Holding still, I look at every detail, like I never had before and never will again, at everything passing away. The sound of falling rain overtakes me. There is silence. Time no longer had any meaning but suddenly it meant everything. In that moment summer ended and I knew I would leave before winter.mirror images:turned away from the deathbedgazing at storm clouds
Between Two Pines is a work in progress, April 2019 to 2020.
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