Saturday, December 09, 2023

pour ceux perdus en mer

 It is the sorrow of things

Holds us fast at night

Where the end of things 

Closes minute by minute

Until nothing makes sense

And sense itself becomes nothing

ta, shane, and, ta ta

Glen Hansard and Lisa O'Neill Perform "Fairytale of New York" at Shane MacGowan's Funeral in Tipparary Ireland

final circle

 I have


to say

about God

and I


say it







what is



to be


fire-box watch





for this

I am



Friday, December 08, 2023

good night

 I have





is no


to speak of

used phrase lot



Will go at auction

Like an old DeSoto

How many 


How many words


In it

an archeology of resignation and redemption

 one chocolate donut

with chocolate milk

tending fire on frigid night

after furnace fail

before morning prison

rohatsu ends

the young 'almah  girl is born 

(with no barrriers)

buddha is enlightened

John Lennon is shot dead

sliver moon off east

one last log for vigils office

as night crew makes snow 

on mountain, droning spouts —

Sinéad O'Connor birthday

(she was right, you know)

if you cannot find me, it changes nothing

 we tend fire in wood stove

she turns around on belly-chest

purring brief stasis

just as we tend friendship

enough for warmth

but not too hot to strike

fear destruction at 2:15AM

cat climbing head-butting

kneading arm claws just

shy of ripping skin --

I do not have friends

it is a flaw that fails 

to right itself, solitary 

soon to be off, worrying

the night, a red-lined furnace

space heaters 15 degrees cold

I keep vigil as she turns again

stretching for an inch of comfort

the way night holds us

barely aware of God 

silencing away

Thursday, December 07, 2023

the demise of decorum

 It’s possible that

His mental disturbance has spread

Across the whole country

One after another

Become deranged and gleefully

Drool their uncontainable foolhardiness 

hermit afternoon

 No lineage no future

just fire in wood stove snow on ground --

how lucky how lucky

francis carrying his snow brother


(sh, 7dec23)

經行, kinhin

 kinhin on mountain

cold morning breath across brook

bridge squeaking snow steps

théâtre de l'absurde -- a play in one question


Tim Dickinson of Rolling Stone reported today that one of those MAGA Republicans, House speaker Mike Johnson (R-LA), spoke freely Tuesday night at the Museum of the Bible in Washington, D.C., at a celebration for the National Association of Christian Lawmakers. Although the address was being livestreamed, Johnson apparently believed he was speaking privately. He told the audience that the Lord called him to be “a new Moses.”

Johnson, an evangelical Christian, told the audience that the U.S. is “engaged in a battle between worldviews” and “a great struggle for the future of the Republic.” He said he believed far-right Christians would prevail. (--in Letters from an American, Heather Cox Richardson, 6dec2023)

A Play in one Question

    by M. Ostly Risible


        Mike Johnson, as himself, a vaudeville hoofer

        Moses, a historical personage, deeply embedded in literature

        Christ, something radical, passing through cosmic consciousness

Act 1

    Moses: He said what? 

    Christ: [silence]


...   ...   ...

        Billboard Theater Review: 

        Audience was heard to ask: "When is the next performance?"

wood stove through night

 breaking open day

sliver moon stars planets, snow

cold white settled in

Wednesday, December 06, 2023

i support your right to kill yourself, not others

 guns guns guns guns (god)

my dear brothers and sisters

you have gone so wrong

南無阿彌陀佛男眾唱頌 *

Buddha doesn't move

Cosmos sways in and out chant

no-mind follows joy

...   ...   ...

* (I entrust myself to the Buddha of Infinite Light and Life.)

cf. The Buddha of Infinite Light and Life, Mark and Taitetsu Unno, Tricycle

Tuesday, December 05, 2023



colder weather in the autumn

The only form of life that hangs onto the past is man. When nature has brought in colder 

weather in the autumn, the leaves fall. They fall because the tree has finished its annual 

cycle and it needs them no more. The tree has no fear as it lets go of each leaf. It has no re- 

gret at letting go of something that has served its purpose. Those leaves will never return, 

but there will be new leaves in the spring to serve a new purpose.  (--in, As A Center Of Consciousness You Are Invisible, by Raymond Charles Barker)

I can remember 

your name

I have not 

forgotten you

you looked at me

across restaurant

table near Yale

decades ago

(told me not to lose

any more weight)

as we were





one another 

tolle et lege

    Why, for example, does acousmatics, or the teaching model by which the teacher remains hidden from the disciple who listens to him, belong to a prephilosophical Pythagorean esoterism, just as, much later, auricular confession corresponds to a secret intimacy of sin and forgiveness?    (--in Listening, by Jean-Luc Nancy)

    The sound filled out that solitude to which the tone gave rhythm ahead of time. (—Raymond Queneau, A Hard Winter)

mute muse  

sits in kitchen

no coffee

this --

cold morning

doing nothing

Monday, December 04, 2023

irish sunset

Shane MacGowan dies

Sinéad O’Connor dies

both December born

she the 8th, he 25th --

their music 

their music

end of solitude

 blue-gray twilight 

snow hangs wet 

from bending branch

cat jumps to counter

have i told you lately

                The joy of waking up to who and where you are —and loving it—is an ecstatic experience of freedom.                                                                    

                                    – Dale S. Wright,  “Why Should I Appreciate Life?” Tricycle

 first snow

over everything


house and trees

electricity out

I sit by dooryard glass

looking through

what is here

and what is 

not here 

the stillness of

which reveals

what lets go

of itself

Sunday, December 03, 2023

no boat will come

 I am not waiting for Godot

not waiting for anything

that train has rolled off

station left and right empty

sparrows land on bared yew branches

cat looks over shoulder, yawns

Thought about church this 1st advent

then thought again, made coffee, sat --

nothing there that is not here

wind nudges tired prayer flags

rain begins raw falling

they say some snow tonight

in December harbor few fishing boats

docks on the hard gripped by muscles

there are reasons to stay in Maine

one is empty mooring, another 

friend emptiness itself walks

on weary feet through gate by road

it's got a good beat and you can dance to it

 Listening to Scott Simon's book Swingtime for Hitler: Goebbels’s Jazzmen, Tokyo Rose, and Propaganda That Carries a Tune, (c. Sept.2023)

It "confronts the disturbing parallels between disinformation in Hitler’s Germany and fake news today." (Notes, Scribd)

The audios of the Nazi band swing and jazz propaganda songs are fascinating.

Shows the madness of lies and the converse longing for truth in a new light.

The Right Wing insanity in contemporary America has long ancestry and strong faith.

Listen carefully.

Their song is playing.

Many are dancing to it.