Years

“Years”

My mother died the year two-thousand
And in my soul I felt quietus
My driving spirit gone astray
It’s been awhile I’ve felt adrift
But now I’m cooking once again
Supported by my inner Venus

Direction Too

“Direction Too”

The physics and the martial arts
I studied hard to find direction.
They satisfied up to those points
at which I ran into hard limits.
And though since then I’ve added new parts
the things to learn will never end.

Direction

“Direction”

A spark was lit, a fuse set burning,
a timer set, when we were born—
a kind of telomeric pressure.
Like sailors old in vessels fragile,
we’ve set our course to go a viking
and at the end see what we’ve learned.

Illusion

“Illusion”

Events that clearly caused disruption,
I often saw as I grew older,
like war and strife and competition.
Now something, somehow, hints to me,
that seeming discord is illusion.
All things in harmony occur.

Without Embroiling

‘Without Embroiling”

The way I used to watch the news shows
was giving too much stimulation:
my inner calm gave way to raging,
peace lost to storied tension traps.
In order that these not impose,
I switched to poise to not get caught in.