of a wave

without thought

the meanings slide into

deeper understandings

words thought become heard

laughter in the wake of

simultaneous combustion

eyes up, face front

guard down, acceptant

willfully unarmed

knowing that intention and

realization are planetary

constantly in rotation

about whatever looks

like a sun

something to dance with

an opposite that breeds

itself through exposure

teachings untethered tide

XLVII

I was born just thirty years ago, 

but I've wandered a million miles already. 

Along the River through the green grass on the 

     banks, 

out to the borderlands, where the red dust roils. 

Chewed herbs, cooked up alchemical elixirs, 

trying to become an Immortal. 

Read all the Writings, chanted the Histories 

     aloud, 

trying to learn them all by heart...

Today I'm on my way 

home to Cold Mountain. 

There, I'll bed down in the creek, just to wash out

     my ears 

LIV

Sun's yang light failing, down the Western Peak;

the grasses caught the light, and flowered with it. 

And again, the dark came on, moon waiting like a 

     hidden dragon, 

among the intertwining branches of vine-covered 

     pines. 

Here, just here, a tiger waited, 

bristling, hackles up, to meet me. 

Not a pen knife in my hand, 

I tried, I tried to know no fear, 

but my heart was all ears, all ears. 

Poems: "of a wave," by Robert Lescatre; "XLVII" and "LIV" by Hanshan from his collection "Cold Mountain Poems." 

Photo: Rawlings "Ozzie Smith Gamer" currently valued at $12,500.