Tuesday, February 22, 2005

email from a Vermont poet

...with his own journal and everything.

Up in the morning early pot of tea sun salute
play my shakuhachi sit cross-legged on my cushion
burn some incense.

To my desk a morning's work write a couple letters
a dozen emails work on a poem work on another essay
about The Emperor's cruelty.

Lunch a nap tea.

Put on my winter work clothes long johns greasy over-alls
old shirt, beat up sweater duct tape mended mittens
hard-hat grab the chainsaw head out to the woods.

A couple hours cutting next year's firewood stagger around
in the snow hump and sweat heave and groan then home
through the dark trees.

Eat good food in the warm, night-time house toasty
by the woodstove go to bed. Get up the next day
do exactly the same thing day after day after day.

Boring? Are you kidding? Who needs
nirvana enlightenment satori?

This is heaven right here on earth.

David Budbill


It's cold up here again, the sap might not be running for a week.

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