shot glass
Issue # 1 March 2010
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Lonnard Dean Watkins

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Zen Poetry


the wind holds its breath
fog envelopes the trees
temple bells echo
calling monks to prayer
above them in a mountain cave
the old one sits facing the wall
to the west a crane flies
as the wind breathes again



why go in one door and out another
waiting for your hair to fall out
stop and sit still for a while
gather your hairs to make a cushion