Poem: The Cure

Our great shared illness: 
Belief in the Supernatural. 
Koan becomes a riddle to be solved  
(with a prize, naturally, expected). 
Eucharist becomes a magic trick.

Poem: Karma

It’s really only this: 
That you don’t get away with anything. 
Which comes as a surprise 
Only if you ignore the incontrovertible evidence 
Of consequences.
It’s not so much that your eczema 
Is payback for that slave you mistreated, 
Back when you were Cleopatra 

Poem: Accusation

They lie 
Who say awakening is joy, 
Because that’s only part of the story. 
Because what you wake up to 
Transcends joy and sorrow— 
Or any other emotion you can identify—
Even as it includes them.