Sunday, December 2, 2012


That mango rind
In the garbage bin
Visible under the rags
Tempts you as you perch
On the ledge
You decide on impulse
To jump through a window,
Knocking over plates and glasses
In a kitchen
And spilling a jar of flour
All over the floor
Because the figs on the table
Had to be eaten

You dart
Hearing an angry voice
And jump out the window
Missing the swat of a broom

It is a tiresome life
Always leaping and fighting
Driven by hunger
And having to show your buttocks
In submission to the leader
With sad, searching eyes
You turn, scratching and
Raising your tail,
To dive into the garbage for that rind

Flying Snake

The art of flying
Is an art of descent
The snake buoyed by currents
While gliding gently down
Springing from a tree branch
Coiling and uncoiling
Sinuously spiraling
Through the capacious emptiness of space
The art of flying
Is an art of falling, of leaping,
Bold acceptance of the air
Letting go through total release
But not passivity