the poetry zendo: visiting in their dreams

The Sacramento Valley, by artist Miles Hermann

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I want, when the time comes, the flames of cremation

I say, "when the time comes," to be polite

Really, I wish it was right now

The perfect emptiness of death, nonexistense

Followed by the flames that cleanse

And the ashes scattered on the welcoming earth

Nonexistence, oh yes

_______

Wet fur

And then gone in a flash

A jackrabbit

Caught in a spring shower

_______

People say I don't come and visit much, yet

One day I'll only visit in their dreams.

_______

May I be spared the illusion 

That even one second belongs to me

I own nothing

There is only that which I do 

And that which I don't do

The rest is an illusion 

_______

How generous of the night to share its darkness with me

And I, in turn, share my silence with the night

_______

It happens often in my dreams. I need to tell everyone about being kind. This time I dreamed of starting a kindness business, a store where you come in and get all the kindness you need. Kindness sales. Two-for-one kindness. Half-off kindness. All the kindness you can carry. In the dream I didn't know how it would work, not really; I just got all excited about everyone getting all the kindness they could possibly ever want. There was a beautiful woman, as there often is, she held me when I got all worked up, saying to me, "Don't forget about yourself, James. Try to keep a little bit of kindness for yourself, too."

James Lee Jobe