When you're reading
a book about Zen, you're not reading a book about Zen.
Columbus Day, 1980
There are no
poems now.
Now there is a hypnotic hum,
A purr of the practical.
I could have written about
The soft tomblike canyon
We walked in today.
I could have captured three chipmunks
In a verbal cage somehow.
There could have been quaint failures
At describing gold-plated trees.
Irony might have jailed the camera-clicking
Kid-scolders bepeopling the park.
A childish whoop reverberating
from the bottom of the canyon
Could have lingered at the end of the poem.
*******
Alan Harris
All ponderables and poems in these e-mails were authored by Alan Harris. Sharing is fine.
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