Sunday, August 27, 2006


Monk Ki tires of sitting with mosquitoes.

They buzz and swoop low
Flittering for a second
Before sucking deep.


You can put the meditation into the novice but the reaction to mosquitoes is there for a very long time if not forever.

Other things have been niggling (there's an interesting word from somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind) at the Monk Ki recently.

"My life would be easier if I didn't invite people into it. THere is one thing about the inventions of fiction- when you kill off someone, they stay dead and gone. What is it about some of my acquaintances? THey are so unlike me. Why do I see things in them that they are oblivious to?"

Of course the unspoken words are "What do they see in me?"

Monk Ki laughs. "Not much."

A bird comes in for a landing near an unseen worm. Monk Ki wonders whether the hawks have started flying in the mountains. Autumn slowly descends the hemisphere.

Hawk screech clear and clean
The widow hears it and cries
Her husband once sang.


"Dang pests."