Sovereign geopoliticalboro four sum, more or less

Sometimes I  let the question naturally  arise,  other times I take out my rubber hammer and pound it back into the whole  from which it crawled  . . .

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Then was a time  I was missing, not AWOL but  missing in inaction  and needed someone to help me but was unable to make that kind of a relationship. Either I  could not figure it out or they could not . . .

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I could say I am sorry to everyone, but then again no one, no two, no  three   ever apologized to me—walk on by, someone told me before I moved here , that is the California way.

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Four  here, four there, four knowhere, it wears me down to  remember and makes me crazy to forget.

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I did not have the presence of mind  to be a brilliant conversationalist while waiting for something to happen. the uncertainty  of waiting, even when there was a schedule  used to fill my heart with answers to unasked questions. If t here was no question why was I forced to have an answer.

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Four winds to the sheets, till death due us part . . .  always some party pooper standing on a corner sumway.

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And the whispering of the people,  watching every move that I go through (apologies to Utah Phillips for stealing a line or two) but It  just gets too enlightening to resist.

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Fort Hill, Roxbury, Boston, Massacheusetts . . . I used to enjoy a few moments between the Lyman family, and the gentrification  sitting in quiet of the early morning—hilltop  Took my mother up here one nice summer afternoon, you could see Back Bay, I’ve been told  in the old days it was a days ride  from Beacon Hill for those with summer homes.

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I make images of my feet because I am glad I do not walk on my head, or wear handcuffs on my legs , the binding would be more than unnatural and it keeps my feet on the ground.

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There were so many distractions, easily it fooled me, over and over, again and again,

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I would not listen when people told me the truth, just as I would listen when they lied   to me, but I believed them anyway

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They were always there with advice, good will and forgotten memories.

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When I put my shade images on to a page there seemed to be no simple path, it touched me through and through  like Queequeg’s bones and Ahab’s beckoning,

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A little color makes it clearer, more confusing and out of time.

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A monk once asked, “Does a dog have Buddha-Nature?”

Joshu replied, “Mu!” or maybe “Mu?” or maybe “Mu . . .   ”   but for sure  it was not “Mu.”

True, I was not there, you can say that,  still you were not there either,  you can take my word and put it out with the dog in the morning.

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But you can bee leave me even if  I do knot  . . .Concerning this Ummon said,  “If for a moment you fall into relativity you are a dead man!”

I  guess that means he was not talking to  women,  or perhaps he had an ephiphany  that if a woman falls into relativity she becomes a dead man.  Maybe the dog does too.

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The  thing I do well is too confuse myself and while you may or may knot  get any understanding from my confusion,  you have  to admit it does makes you feel good  to know you are more deserving of  enlightenment than I.

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You could say you do not understand  me, but that is my excuse, you can knot no more than I, and despite what Joshu  said, here is photographic proof that Nansen’s cat still lives long after he killed it.

Thank Buddha for the power of the internet of all things enlightening.

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