Bucky Ball

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

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

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

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