Perfect Trees

I do not return to perfect trees.
I return to the gnarled oak, rising alone amongst the stones,
To the burned ash, fresh leaves greeting the rising sun,
To the bound bonsai, constrained by ego yet still a tree.

I do not return to perfect trees
Except to note in verdant forests
All look alike
Yet no two rise the same.

I do not return to perfect trees
Nor clear glass windows
Nor professed saints
Yet find God upon each return.

Source: Dall-E picture using this poem as a prompt.

Great Men vs. great men

Over ten years from now,
Only some of today’s Great Men of Capital
Will be remembered.

Over one hundred years from now, 
Only a few of today’s Great Men of Power
Will be lionized.

Over one thousand years from now,
Only a smattering of today’s Great Men of Philosophy
Will be sung of.

Over ten thousand years from now,
Even their impact
Will be eclipsed

By the multiple of great men
Who through their small examples
Taught their children

To plant blossoms
In the gardens
Of their souls.

Great Men
Will be eclipsed
By great men.

Negotiating Terms

I believe men and women want the same thing: 
To be loved on their terms.

I also believe this is not
The path to a successful relationship.

Successful relationships negotiate terms.

They start with a slow unveil of wants, 
Cemented with a fast & furious exchange of
And gets
And gives
And gets

That without fanfare morphs into
And accepts
And offers
And accepts

And finally into
And reciprocations
And anticipations
And reciprocations

Until one day they realize they want the same thing:
To be loved on their terms.

AI image generated via a prompt of “A Vermeer oil painting of an older couple pondering the following poem: …”

Thought #40

Places are not sacred.
The people we share them with 
Make them so.

And sometimes, when I share them
With no one but myself,
I know I am not alone.

Mount Shasta, at mid-point of a solo run in April 2023

Sub-Standard Deviant

While obtaining his degree in statistics at a world-renowned mathematics university, Carl’s inauthentic dalliances with punk rock, gothic clothing, and anarchism fooled no-one, including himself.

At best, he was one sub-standard deviation from the norm.

Source: Dall-E picture using this joke as a prompt.

One Does Not Drive The Ocean

One does not drive the ocean
Nor cage the seas
Nor calm the waters

Waterways open today
Are closed tomorrow
As forces beyond control
Remake the world 

That does not mean
One sits in irons
Awaiting the tsunami

Break out the sextants
Look to the stars
Put fingers in the air
Hoist, hoist, hoist

Source: Dall-E picture using this poem as a prompt.

Work-Life Dancing

Work-life balance implies static harmony — stacked stones upon the sea shore. Yet a strong wind, or a dogs leg, can cause a tumble.

Work-life dancing is more my ideal: graceful gliding across the floor, neither too much stillness nor stumbling; smooth transitions reacting to the world’s music.

So I seek to dance with grace, and recognizing a child’s dance (as it discovers its body) has its own grace, I acknowledge I am still but a babe.

Source: Dall-E picture using this poem as a prompt.