3. The middle way скачать в хорошем качестве

3. The middle way

The middle way Entropy. Cartilage has vanished from between long leg bones, and I have become dependent; may I have some help please with these pants, these socks, this clacking knee brace, this burgeoning heaped skunkish laundry full of everything that leapt from the spoon onto my clothing, this tea welling up somehow from my cup's brim to spread across the tidal flat of my shaking hand and fill the sea cave of my sleeve? Huh, and if last night's frost has subsided enough, perhaps even with such a day's beginning I can hope to step into these two unmatched clogs and shamble on, past undone chores, gathering up my left-hand stick and my right- hand stick, and walk the dog. There is no dog; what he left behind lies there: that small basaltic stupa, littered with seasonal offerings -- lately, deadnettles that wilt in such hurry. But I call to him anyway; he loved these walks so, that I feel obliged, knee brace and all, to retrace our kinhin route each weekday Armageddon fails to materialize. Oaks throw shade; in summer I seek them, in winter avoid. This is a ritual. As when I sit, as when I chant, I know, even when tongue tied, or falling asleep, or feeling my knee brace loosen and drop just as I stagger into the ditch to avoid a truck, that ritual is a kind of living being, made up of my life and also the lives of all who participate in some way, such as: "are you going to 'walk the dog?'" Yes. "Have you got some water and your phone?" Yes. "Okay; if you're not back in an hour, I'll come looking for you." I bobbled the Heart Sutra this morning, as I always do, but this little exchange of hearts is itself the Middle Way. Along the road, taking tiny steps, tinier every year, I stop to watch a robin angling for its worm. The little dog that isn't there wags his universe of tail. by risa bear #poem #poetry