Poems at a Zen Retreat

Kyoto Meditation Center, photo by Joi Ito (2003)

Leaves decayed gather in the corner
with dustballs and last summer's grass
ignored by the straw broom
lazy man sweeps only the open and obvious
yesterday's uneaten seeds
and the dirt that dropped off brother's shoes
earlier in the pre-dawn after he had trudged across
the wet ground to the pen where the rabbits are kept

when i first arrived
it was the undone i saw
and his yellow teeth

Silently they prepare the meal
and serve plain brown rice in plain brown wood bowls
they wear thin slippers and black pants that reveal their ankles
all except for the red headed girl who is tinier than the rest
and has more freckles than there are stars in the night sky
caught staring; I fiddle with my chopsticks as my face becomes warm
someplace else a cat howls
and I take my place with the rest at the long table
wondering what the cat will eat

my mind travels wide
clouds helpless against the wind
i cannot be leashed