an early sundown/a protracted sense of doom/to steal a soul’s heat
when a dog shivers/huddling in a bitter wind/your home is her home
holiday lights twink/and hot cider makes you think/cheer is a good brink
footprints in the snow/so you look up and fog breath/shows some exertion
electric blankets/make you feel like toasted bread/better turn it down
somehow meteors/despite incineration/look frightfully cold
you are a furnace/and it is your duty now/to provide your warmth
Using the problem-solving compulsion of a materialistic Westerner, it is easy to demonstrate the sound of one hand clapping. One needs only clap the four fingers against the thumb pad and hand heel. It sounds like the underwater applause of diaphanous tail fins. (No, it doesn’t. Maybe the emerging koan is now “What is the sound of underwater diaphanous-tail-fin applause?”)
At any rate, yesterday I started a doodle, got what I wanted from it, and abandoned it. Today I was looking at the pomegranate tree by the driveway and lines metrically near-identical came. I unabandoned my doodle and added a title and the two lines to it. The result is a quasi-koan, though I’d love to hear arguments that it is not.
One with Clay, Image and Text 