A student had argued with one of his fellow students and came to the master, flushed with anger, demanding that the master resolve the matter. The master sat quietly for a moment. A breeze fluttered the leaves of the tree under which he sat, and the sunlight danced on the ground.

The student shuffled uneasily.

Then the master said, “Imagine that you are traveling down a road and come to a rock which blocks your path. Which is better, to remove the rock or to go around it?”

“It depends” replied the student. If I traveled the path often, it would be best to remove the rock. But if I was passing that way just the one time, it would be more expedient to go around it. At the same time, if it was a small rock and easy to remove, then it would be best to move the rock in either case.”

“And this issue with your fellow student: is it a small rock or a large rock?” asked the master.

“It is a rather large rock,” answered the student.

“And your relationship with him: is it a path you travel often?”

“Yes,” said the student.

“Best to remove the rock then,” said the master.

Careful!
To step into this picture
you must cross that patch of light
tangled bramble woven branches chain link fence;
and when you get to the sun-brushed garden
– watch the cat! –
you may suddenly find
that you are not in the picture anymore.

before you give anything away
think
would this person be prepared to pay
the price that i have paid?

kathy's foot swole up.
she had a piece of glass
in her foot for two weeks.
she thought it had worked itself out.

gray bird hurtles by
a torpedo through the dusk.
for a split-second, i pause.

the sky is blank
my mind a numb fishbowl
in this empty morning.

no matter how I poof and froof
I'm going bald and that's the troof.

if you stand to meet a wave of anger it will send you tumbling
duck below the wave and let it wash over you.

my mind climbs the tree
but my body is too lazy to follow.

i look up at the vacant sky
the green grass pricks
the backs of my arms.

a squirrel glares from the maple tree
i watch an ant crawl off the edge of the world
the tabletop is a vast landscape.

in dangerous territory, i forget to seek opportunity
flush with good fortune, i fail to be watchful.

chirp, chirp, chirp
my phone wants to tell me something.

a blue bowl overturned on the porch
and scattered popcorn kernels
are their calling cards.

massive and still,
her eyes flicker through the room like a moth.

meandering conversation in the low bleachers
lightly touches on this subject and that.
the big lights softly illuminate the green field.
suddenly a strong wind
that drives stinging dust into the eyes
and the cool touch of fat raindrops
sends us running for our cars.

the jet trail streaks the evening sky
a golden slash.

the night air rushes in the treetops
shriveled earthworms strew our path
armored beetles scamper
seeking coolness in the dark sidewalk cracks.

bits of wisdom live on brittle yellow paper
tenants of a roll-top desk.
will the next owner keep them on
or evict them and wipe the slate clean?

this leafy roof
lets a bit of daylight through
to play with the leaves on the street.

open this heavy book, and the words march across textured pages
left to right
in formation
structured
(but not rigidly so)
for your pleasure and edification.

still summer day
a leaf trembles.

the sound of a fan
and a ticking clock
collect moments of eternity.

a cat and a mote of dust
dance in a patch of sunlight.

the afternoon sun is seasoned
by the first cool sip of beer.

a breeze in the treetops
quiet voices
and the sound of crickets
drape the summer night.

the temptation to touch
is most delicious when unfulfilled.

like a wary traveler through a himalayan pass
an airplane navigates the overhanging clouds.

supported by heavy thunder,
raindrops invade my dreams.

the gray rain steadily increases,
insisting on an end to the conversation.

june offers a cold still morning.
two red flashes flicker
through the leafy canopy.
a lawn mower
sputters in the distance.

stiff white clouds
thatch the bright sky
a strong cool wind blows through my shirt.
the sidewalk is refreshed
with deep shadows.

a bottle of wine
chills in the fridge downstairs,
and a warm slow burn in my legs and feet
reminds me
that i walked a lot today.

we stop.
a butterfly warms itself on a rock.
its wings, crisp leaves, rise slowly.
pause
a mad flutter
and now nothing.
we walk on.

the sun filters through the clouds
lightly brushing the darkening sky
with gold.
it looks like rain.

i am talking to a cell phone,
this little device -- and i'm powerless
to stop the tears
at the other end.

i didn't miss them,
but today the daily tensions return
ratcheting my body
crank by crank
back to its proper torque.

the little ways i annoy her return
one by one
like waves
seeping into wet sand.

am i reading or writing
the expressions that move across her face?
like water, the depth can be seen on the surface
if only it could be deciphered.

thomas has had very little sleep.
we talk in a red booth by the window.
behind us, morning slowly wakes.

blue night deepens outside
but we are warm
thinking of cobblestones on a hot summer day.

hunched against the cold gray morning
we talk of the weather, saunas, utopias and hashish.
the waiter leans dangerously back
to take our picture.