Wednesday, November 30, 2011



Words like contemplation and
center clambor for notice.
Life, the raven, the trickster,
lifts the lid on another
unexpected stew, a meal
to savor or choke on. Let's
say grace and pass clockwise, the
dish is hot. Looking inward,
horizon distant, sky shot
with contrails trailing those with
ticket punched and one free checked
piece of luggage. Below on
the ground facing east or west
or north, sitting cross legged,
hands upturned in stillness,
contemplating the center,
my attention wandering
toward what's next in the pot.

November 9, 2011

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