Creek and Cloud

final creekclouds

The creek and the cloud

Were cut from the same cloth–

Brothers, since the world began,

Comparable in composition,

Yet contrary in composure:

The creek is so laid back,

He is often called lazy,

While the cloud is always

Up in the air over something.


–Photo by me



our minds

are mostly


with model friends

and model trees

and cubicles

we are assigned–

all constructs

of the mind.

what’s out there

is not in here,

and life is

but a dream;

it’s all illusion,

mass delusion–

nothing’s as

it seems,

yet there’s a

common fantasy

to which we

all agree:

the mass


that we call


Friends & Foes: A Haibun


As I approach the edge of an old mine dump overlooking Lake Ore-Be-Gone in Northeast Minnesota, a lone, white-tailed fawn and I have just spotted each other. He could easily leap over the edge, and run down the hillside to escape me if he wanted to, but he just stands there, seemingly confused. I don’t know if it’s my long, “white-tailed” beard or what, but slowly he begins to make his way toward me.

Suddenly, he catches my scent, and his confusion clears right up. He turns, leaps over the edge, and soon disappears into the woods below–the very place his real foes lie in wait.


a lone, dappled fawn

flees the unbeknownst safety

of my company



–Photos by me