Tag Archives: monk

Seeds

The other day I met a monk who juggled watermelon seeds with his tongue. When I asked him how he did it, he spit the seeds at me, a staccato stream of seeds as if the monk were no monk … Continue reading

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Kin

There are chambers inside myself I have yet to discover or visit, for example, that one room rumored to contain a monk in tattered robes hunched over a yellow table benignly autistic in his relations to text and verses which … Continue reading

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Love Story

Misty wandering, the lonely monk meets a tree– bowing, they shed tears.

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Ponder

    Moon, green to ponder, poets fathom tides, dreams, death– all in a night’s work.

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