silent winter

they came today
and shot the coyotes.

the loud popping of the guns
right outside the house
at eight o'clock
in the morning
was a shock.

I listened to them bark every night
their wild free hearts sang to mine.

Tonight, two small yelps and one in the distance
burn through me like ice
and I cannot help but weep

now there will be no song.

goodbye coyotes

8 am
popping guns

silence

they shot the coyotes

Every Only Child Sichuan province earthquake 2008

I look up at the clear blue sky
that belies
the invisible
truth of all things;
within the orb of life
is also death.

just like any other day
the streets filled with bicycles,
the air hung with fragrance
of blooming trees,
the sounds of birds

and the far off
low rumble
approaching...

it is not a sound one forgets,
the sound of fear

like thunder.

the earth's mantle
mercilessly moves
the Himalayas
ever upward into China...
shakes corruptions loose
from their foundations
brings down officials
from their thrones
cripples industry,
buildings,
machines and power
into meaningless,
useless bits of nothing
in the face of catastrophe.
in seconds
everything is decimated,
no roads in
or out.
no safety,
no salvation.

The Tao has come to pass.

The Buddha can not relieve
this suffering
as every only child's
lifeless, bruised fingers
rip the love from their 
mother's and father's hearts
taking their souls
to an enlightenment
you better pray never happens to you.

Afterlife

I once was a poet
then I was a child.
I grew in
towards something undefinable
then out, towards life
and into that as well...

all around the same time
I became reclusive and profoundly lonely
I walked in my father's shoes
with my heart permanently torn up
it was easy, I never tried a day in my life to be sad.
but the fact remains 
that I am.

I once was a poet,
first and only,