Living Small

Thirty-five cents got me on the bus,

Along with the other school-bound kids,

Thirty-five cents got us home.

Mom gave me the money at the first of the week,

I had to make it last. Walking home

One winter day taught me thrift.

Perhaps I learned too well. My father said

I was the type that would go out

For a night with a hundred dollars

And return with ninety-nine. I could see 

No harm in that. What could I buy

Which might serve me better than security?

What have I missed by living a small life?

What did my father have in mind?

under moonlight, by candlelight

you and the girl

dressed as you were

in long dresses and capes

under a half moon

obscured 

by patchwork clouds

walking along the candlelit path

talking quietly

i looked and looked again

for i saw, i thought i saw, hester and pearl,

and said so

i am not hester, you said sharply

no, you are not hester

but i cannot deny what i saw

The Imp I Never Knew, Or Wasn't

Gary Snyder

I wish to (wish I might) know the imp,

the Dharma Bum himself,

though no bum he,

whom I might (wish I might) follow,

picking up the fragments he drops, or snatch from the air

feathers of knowing (no-ing) left in his wake.

I may wish, I know (how no is such an important part of my life)

that the me of me knows better,

to what end, still I wish it, and imagine it, because

if I had I wouldn't be here, would I, writing this, but somewhere else,

doing something else, and maybe not so . . . me.

Were I to buy his brand of ness

were I to do so (as if 'I do' were a vow), the smile which begins in his eyes—

that sort of smile means something, is rare,

coming from within,

and with his brand, so would mine.

He is, I am not, the imp, the bum,

who isn't an imp or a bum,

but flesh and blood, pursuing, perchance finding, something

worth finding, unlike the non-Dharmas that we are.

Oh, I wish a lot of things, he is one thing, I could make a list.

I don't know him.

My smiles never come from in.

Which is why I wish (wish I may, wish I might).

But I know what is, isn't,

is only what could be . . . if

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