GRIZZLY PEAR
He tried to stuff the pants onto the high shelf.
Just out of reach.
Even on tippy toes.
Nope.
Again.
And again.
He quit.
What is that a sullen look on his face?
Is it concentration?
He returned, with a stool from downstairs.
Mission accomplished.
䷙䷉
the headboard of a young bull
great good fortune
I am the waiter.
I serve cake on ping pong paddles.
He is the cook.
He bakes desserts in a green cardboard box.
She is the chef,
And the owner (according to the menu).
She is also a patron,
With all the stuffed animals.
Waiting on the couch,
Seated around yoga blocks.
A cake restaurant has overrun the living room.
“Today, our special is a Blueberry Chocolate Sunrise.”
䷎䷇
no boasting of wealth before one’s neighbor
it is favorable to attack with force
He told her a story
in broken English.
It was my story
and my sister’s.
The immigrant story.
Each generation.
Home after home.
At the tips of each little tongue.
䷙䷸
the tusk of a gelded boar
good fortune
Three pages
every morning.
Unleash the unconsious
on paper.
Half an hour
Before real life
(or spreadsheets)
One month down,
The first notebook too.
Precious solitude.
䷻䷏
enthusiasm that looks upward creates remorse
hesitation brings remorse
She unraveled his construction.
A black string woven through bars of the baby gate.
I hadn’t seen it yet.
The boy was devastated.
She didn’t realize it was important.
Really?
The whole house is a mess.
Why start with this?
䷡䷲
a goat butts against a hedge
and gets its horns entangled
The park was empty.
The sun nestled behind the hills.
The kids ran around the playground.
The golden hour enveloped us.
The only family in the world.
䷫䷧
under heaven, wind
the image of coming to meet.
March closed with a finance book.
April started with epic spreadsheet for retirement.
Numbers led to more spreadsheets.
Research the perfect investment strategy.
Websites, forums, emails, articles, podcasts, videos, books.
Update the spreadsheets, again.
April is closing.
Time to decide.
Enough.
May is for living.
䷌䷘
under heaven thunder rolls:
all things attain the natural state of innocence.
They laid a grey flannel blanket on the floor.
Piled on toys and pillows.
Set a red chair on one end.
Taped a sign on its back.
“The Chocolate Racer”
䷯䷭
in the well there is a clear cold spring
Two nights ago, my wife made porridge.
Aged cheddar, black pepper, sea salt, and leftover rice.
Righteous.
She made it again.
The kids devoured it before I came downstairs for lunch.
I scraped the pot before doing the dishes.
Less quantity, less guilt.
A moderate luxury.
䷜䷯
the town maybe changed, but the well cannot be changed.
“We’re good at warehousing.”
(at the youth center)
“They have no vision.”
About our capital
(and the kids)
䷮䷰
a man permits himself to be oppressed by stone,
and leans on thorns and thistles.