dimestore buddhist

a magpie’s indigo feather cast down from
a cottonwood in the dog days, an orange
crayon sun in a sky-blue crayon sky;

the higan cherry’s frail February
blossoms, puddles reflecting a bloom of
cumulus in the park opposite;

one polished boxwood Budai on a birch
dresser, two paper cranes under a plastic
bridge to no-place, five osier stems askew in

one vase, eight whelk shells caramel & white
on sand in another vase, two cups of
shiitake mushrooms, three cloves of garlic, that

one photo of you on a stepladder in
Nova Scotia, four heirloom tomatoes in
a glass bowl bathed in eastern sunlight;

the 10,000 phenomena in
a JJ Newberry’s downtown on the
square I can’t let go of in this life


Jack Hayes
© 2015