Haiku 5

life tells me: go here:

here’s more beauty, wisdom, love.

I say yes, thanks, friend.


War memorials

dot the land from sea to sea

–our sad history.


Tall, well-fed friar

friendly, erudite, patient

shares his order’s light.


Medieval artists–

stone, glass, wood, theology

their work still standing!


Awareness remains

church bells chime out Its Presence

sunlight through stained glass.


Antsy companions

days and nights on pilgrimage

old routines want home

(mind horse wants stable.)


Yes, we’re all equal

but tourists flock to castles

for taste of Kings, Queens.


White Cliffs of Dover!

The “high ground” since Roman times.

Look out! Enemies!


Pilgrimage last day.

Should we do one more castle?

We drive past, full, drained.


Two Zen Garden Rocks

at home, too heavy to lift.

Far off, they ground me.


I am nature, and

I am the telephone wires

running through the trees.


Single red rose blooms

by the pool at the motel.

No one else is here.


Fly through Constable’s

clouds– dark green meadows below

Goodbye, Merry Ol’…



Nation states dissolve

the more nation states you see.

One big family.


Happy to be home

after long, deep pilgrimage–

brush teeth on own sink.


Pilgrimage back home.

Everything’s the same, but not.

Something in me woke.


My old ego hurts

when friends scoff at what I do.

Their ego hurts too.


When you bark at me

I want to pinch you. But don’t.

(Except in this poem.)



I can work from home

now that I’ve swallowed the world.

Everywhere is here.

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