THE CAGE

 THE CAGE

The soft rush of wings 
beat against the steel confines 

of the prison, the sound 

of pealing church bells 

strikes against the bars,  

the cage that encompasses 

more than a heartbeat.

No date, found on a scrap of paper with the poem called the scars on my toes from 1978.

ODIYAN

ODIYAN

Afternoon winter sun melts gently upon us 

as we gaze at the shimmering ocean 

from the inner courtyard of the Tibetan monastery 

tucked away in the coastal hills of California.

Along the winding ridge, the American Indian, 

and the American Buddhist coexist together,

in tune with the earth’s rhythms, and today is my birthday.

11/24/1978

I was with Bob’s little brother, Marc Hamilton who was living with us in Cotati. Marc was interested in Buddhism, so we drove in my blue bug to various monasteries.
 

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