Why have you gotten up and left
leaving your chair by my side?
Will you not come back to sit with me?
Of course I know
you cannot return. 
Your last word
Goodbye. 
Then you were gone.

Your chair is empty still.
Often, in the night or on waking,
I sense someone is with me.
There is no one.
All told me to wait
but I did not wait long
I did not know how to do it well
to grieve and to let you go.

I am a spiritual being
in me all around me spirit
beings grasses birds all
not a thing that is not
star cloud universe
all with me creating
our exquisite masterpiece
I can explain none of it
no book sutra commentary
although they try can explain
this body mind I am
led astray in theory abstraction
zen words stories patriarchs
none know this
can explain this
that I am.

Rain filled windswept days

searching the window

watching the windblown world.

I would know the secret gaze

of a dear companion

in chairs across the table

on the porch watching birds.

Are words needed?

Well, one or two would do,

I’m here I’ll not be leaving soon.

Life is zen and something more

life before zen

one to remain beyond zen.

Buddha, dharma, sangha

yes, these, yet

something beyond these – ineffable –

who I am but where I cannot go

as a drop of world

in a sea of unbounded stars.

My hermitage today is snowfall

nowhere to go no obligations to keep

no roads diverging into woods dark and deep

a fortunate man am I with leisure

to write a few lines while watching snowfall

branches drooping and dripping.

My hermitage cannot be found on any map

it lies under a soft and still blanket of snow

nor can it be confined

I come and go as I please.

Letting go of my car was easy

my television too

sell them give them away

difficult still is letting go

surrendering to the way of things

to the ways of others

old stories deep buried prejudices

defended prideful positions

it is my vow after all

to enter the boundless gates.

old Chinese hermits lived close

caves thatch huts mountain sides

writing poetry

trees rocks clouds ponds

these I have but no pond

only a bird bath on my veranda

moon I have their very own

our lives on earth our time

the moon our dear companion.