Author: jshb32

Bucky Ball

jshb32, Leave a comment

High in the mountains, breathing a winter sun . . . the wind is light-footed here like a monk going through the narrow lanes of mundane. Nothing except the prayer flags move as I follow the tabby cat who moonlights as a Zen master on her less busy days.

‘Lots of space, nothing holy,’ she finally breaks the silence ‘that’s what enlightenment is.’

I am a bit baffled with her mongrel diction, but then she does have nine lives over me.

‘Isn’t every vacancy filled in by something else? Create a vacuum and the universe rushes to fill it.’ I say ‘So by extension wouldn’t a renunciation be replenished by the holy?’

‘Too many question. Far too many.’ She chastises snapping at an imaginary sparrow, then adds ‘And that might just be the reason, why you would find enlightenment a bit out of reach. But then probably you are better off. Enlightenment is the ultimate disappointment.’

empty spaces
the wind too
howls in protest

Paresh Tiwari

Bucky Ball

The People Next Door

jshb32, Leave a comment

I can never be sure what the people next door are doing. The cause of the shouting and screaming is left to my imagination. An inexplicable banging continues way into the evening. Once I heard them saw off the leg of one of their boys, well, that is what it sounded like – the screaming. But the following day, I saw both boys running about on all four of their legs. And then there’s the dog . . .

 

summer breeze
the smell of my neighbour’s
dog poo

 

Martha Magenta

The People Next Door

Night Fishing

jshb32, Leave a comment

I saw five patients today, most of whom were only there for medication refills. One very typical lady’s doctor recognized she had become chemically dependent on her anxiety medication and switched her to another, non-habit-forming medicine. She didn’t like that and told him, “If you don’t give me the medicine I want, I will go to the emergency room and get it from them.”

So in she walked to see me.

night fishing,
hook in the inky sea;
fish jump into my boat
behind

Eric Lohman

Night Fishing

Donor

jshb32Leave a comment

She pokes the needle in my arm.  My blood fills one vial, and then a second.  “I feel faint”, I tell her as everything goes black.

moon walk
the weightlessness
of shade

 

 

Dave Read

Donor

(no title)

jshb32Leave a comment

The saddest part, for me, is your autism did not protect you from schizophrenia. Ordinarily I would attribute everything you did to that, your first diagnosis – but what am I to do with this? You remembered me from Christmas Eve, saying hi with a wave (yeah?) and your funky brummie upturned stare (yeah?). It was a simple assignment, one only half completed as the neighbors told police you approached them in confusion as to why it was taking so long to circle the block, having to drag so hard on the leash and your charge laying there, resisting with every inch of his still-warm side along the ground. It was a miracle (yeah?) you thought (yeah?) his thick, furry neck managed to fit in your hands.

the therapist listens–
becomes another
choking victim

Eric Lohman

(no title)

Angler

jshb32Leave a comment

Of all of Dad’s fishing gear, his net is my favourite.  It’s huge!  It’s so big, in fact, I’m certain I could fit inside. I’d love to crawl in, wait him out, and sneak a ride on his next big trip. How surprised he’d be to find me out at sea!

rag doll
combing her hair
after chemo

 

 

 

Dave Read

Angler