A Ship That Sailed Long Ago

God has receded beyond the cosmic horizon

All the universe, the time to get there

Still faster than getting to the bottom of myself

Budwhale

Are you allowed to fail?

Can one be great and also frail?

Is it wrong to go slower than a snail?

Some might say, “follow the trail”

Better yet, just wag your tail

Don’t dwell on things until they get stale

Metamorphosis

Mantis Shrimp by Jim Christensen

Molting mantis-shrimp masquerading mightily; meanwhile mostly meek.

Maybe moving might make me mealtime?

Malarkey!

My memory-made mind muddies more meaningful meditation.

dog shaman

Shaman Khorolkan of the Kambaghir tribe of the Evenk, first quarter of the nineteenth century (Illinois State Museum)

dog shaman gnaws his soul to the bone,

his is not the highest, his is but to roam.

Does he ever make it home?

For him there is no grandeur,

he sleeps on the kitchen floor,

wags his tail then is no more.

Mighty Eagle and Bear don’t care,

They can go anywhere,

but They don’t know what it means to share.

Well, who knows what we’ll be in the end,

so from one dog to another, i’ll miss you old friend.

Δt

Hey, I’ll explain the world that I see;

The events that transpire, and why to me.

Well, I’m a follower of great Δt;

which makes what’s past out of what will be.

And I’m enslaved by cruel mean Δt;

because what’s mine is mine just momentarily.

But I’m liberated by pure true Δt;

learning takes time to forget and be free.

Yeah, I’m just me thanks to Δt;

finding in a moment of forever, harmony

Shipwreck

Imperial Japanese Navy oiler Irō under attack on 30 March 1944, Palau, photo by United States Navy

Among gnarled and twisted branches, small fish on display.

During the quiet afternoon, us humans come for play.

Beneath our playground, a dark labyrinthine tomb.

This wouldn’t be our playground, but for your horrific doom.

I do not come for the fun and play anymore, if ever I visit this site.

I just come to watch the daring fish, all fighting the good fight.

True, False, and that NullReferenceException

You are right, you are wrong; you are neither all along.

Sometimes pained, sometimes quelled; feeling either feels compelled.

I am alive, I am not dead; but if I was, what is said?

One plus one, plus one is three; with no logic, I am free.

The Road Got Easier

As a wanderer, I traveled the world outside my home

walking the road to it’s end.

At first the road was hard and lonely until I found a friend.

I sat with him while the embers burned and warmed my soul

within the homely abode.

Prepared again for the world outside, I took the wayward road

Yet when the sun sank down and cold set in, the way had been lost.

So on a stone I sat and thought

How once I shared the shelter but currently did not

In that moment of true despair, I finally made my peace.

Finding an abode in my own,

I remembered my friend, I remembered my home.

Palau Haikus

Jungle surrounds, while
zen flute bird whistles calmly;
and lights the dark way.

Current is ripping,
but shark glides effortlessly.
He minds his nature.

Sharks are not clown fish.
I would be one forever,
ocean is lonely.

Wild man of Palau,
I joke but I’m real in dream:
Lebuu the Hero.

Photo Credits

Palau Bush Warbler by Margaret Sloan

Shark and Clown Fish by Jim Christensen

The Dying Gaul

The Dying Gaul

No equine ride into the town square this time, this is a different kind of victory,

The victory of a strong arm defying an increasingly heavier weight –

An increasingly weaker arm.

His head bends now as that of one bowed in thought.

After the battle rages, others will ride forth on their horses into the town square.

For now though, the surrounding clamors begin to ebb,

As if to regard a final moment of intimate thought.

This is a different kind of victory.