Introduction

Some years back, I grew interested haiku. Initially, because these short gems struck me as the perfect match for Twitter—a marriage made in digital heaven, as it were. Besides, how hard could it be to write a seventeen-syllable poem.

As I normally do when my interest alights on something, I read several books on the subject (that this time included Higginson and Harter’s wonderful The Haiku Handbook) and from there proceeded to immerse myself in several well-known haiku masters, such as Bashō, Buson, Issa, Shiki, et al.

Meanwhile, I began trying my hand at these things, initially strictly adhering to the five-seven-five syllable format, which, I soon came to find out (from online self-proclaimed haiku gurus), was quite a crude adaptation of that principle seeing that Japanese syllables do not necessarily correspond to English syllables (which are, by expert reckoning, quite unwieldy by comparison). Also, reading a lot of (published and respected) English language haiku I soon realized that both the five-seven-five and the seventeen-syllable “rules” had long since been abandoned by the better (and more creative) haiku poets.

As a result of seeing things in this particular light, I soon began taking liberties with the five-seven-five rule but for some odd reason the seventeen-English-syllable statute remained on the books, refused to leave, had found a home in me—if for no other reason than that my little haikus (which I soon named Wolfkus for an obvious reason) seemed to percolate to the surface fully grown and just about always in a string of seventeen-syllable creations. And when they did not, say they surfaced as an eighteen-syllable Wolfku, or a sixteen-syllable one, well, then I discovered that when I sand-papered the longer ones into seventeen, or added some air into the shorter ones into seventeen: the meaning seemed clearer, more definite—besides, this was a fun exercise (I love language and its many words and their bendable uses).

Struck by something, an image, a feeling, a thought, before long this seventeen-syllable raft came bopping to the surface (having been let go of by some curious and creative, though shy, deep-sea Wolfku deity). During a morning’s walk by the Pacific, three or four or sometimes five of these Wolfkus might surface, and it was all I could do to remember them all until I returned home to a pen or a keyboard.

Sometimes I did forget them, memory like a sieve these days.

Before not so long, many of these Wolfkus arrived more as aphorisms than true haikus, as little containers of distilled perhaps philosophical reflection. Well, since many of them struck me (the creator, or recipient might be a better word) as both unique and insightful, who was I to call a halt to this quite enjoyable, if curious, phenomenon.

A phenomenon that still flourishes and seems to have no intention to do otherwise, for I rarely return from an hour’s walk without some seventeen-syllable epigram or other.

Seeing, though, that the earth from which these Wolfkus sprung (and still spring) was replete with impressions and sometimes micro-epiphanies, I thought that perhaps it was time to revisit these Wolfkus and examine this fertile soil for what else it might hold. What, indeed, I wondered, gave birth to them, what carried them from darkness to light? And where did they, in turn, carry me? This is what gave birth to the idea of Wolfku Musings—a collection of Wolfkus and the soil that sprung them.

I have published Wolfku Musings, Book One, and will soon publish Book Two, to be followed by Three… Four… et cetera.

Meanwhile, I realized that I really should assemble a sort of archive of those Wolfkus that I have posted online, by now running into the several hundred, and also publish future Wolfkus Archives as I write and post them.

Lately, say over the last many months, I’ve begun to give my Wolfkus titles as well, just for, well, I don’t know why really, just felt right. As I now compile these Wolfkus from oldest to newest, I’ve also added titled to those who never had one.

All this said, here then, the eighth installment.

Wolfkus 701 - 800

— 701 —

Little Priests

A murder of crows
  strutting about—
a flock of feathery
  fathers
Rising


— 702 —

Language

Language is
  dangerous
—no matter
  how precise
it still falsifies


— 703 —

Way Out

Sometimes it feels
  like I have
  nothing but
language
  to fight
my way out


— 704 —

Elevation

The closer I grow
  to the air
The farther I grow
  from this weird
  brain


— 705 —

Stillnesses

As I am the stillness
  within you
You are the stillness
  within me


— 706 —

Sneeze

Before the beginning
  was a sneeze
And it’s been
  “bless you”
ever since


— 707 —

Breathing

Peaceful—
know each breath
  and its vivid universe
of singing atoms


— 708 —

Amazing Logic

Ah, to be a fly
  on the mind-wall
of those who
  condone
littering


— 709 —

Language

As he spoke
  I wondered:
Is language the
  mathematics
of the soul?


— 710 —

Shadows

The feather casts
  as deep a shadow
as does the blade
  of tempered steel

What’s more:
  a darkling thought
can foil the light
  as well as
  any feather


— 711 —

Singing

Sitting on the
  whale’s tail fin
—finned herself
  she sang me
the still water


— 712 —

How to Look

Anapanasati—
  learning how
  to look
breath by
  beautiful
  breath


— 713 —

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice

Life’s most amazing
  sorcerer’s trick:
appearing to be
  so many


— 714 —

Alien Compassion

Looking down on us,
  one alien to the other:

“A planet where there is
  a market for fake Guccis—
May God help them.”


— 715 —

Oxygen

Awake is breathing air
Asleep is growing gills
  and breathing water


— 716 —

Air

The better I know
  the air
The more spirit
  and brain
seem to un-fuse


— 717 —

Engineering Feats

Pain and Sex
  and Karma—
The greatest
  engineering feats
of all time


— 718 —

Meditation

You are getting warm
  when you can lean
  all the way back
into nothing


— 719 —

Breathing

My beautiful
  Anapanasati—
Each breath
  an intimate sky


— 720 —

Noise

Before I speak
  I ask myself:
“Will I improve
  upon the silence?”


— 721 —

Fortress

You maker and breather
of the autumn night—
Distance is your fortress


— 722 —

Dictionary

There is no better
  human history
than a good
  dictionary*

*Preferably Pre-Babel


— 723 —

Darkness

Why so few
  enlightened souls—
The Earth, by design
a Gordian knot

for an Alexander
  or a Buddha
to wisely
  sever or solve


— 724 —

Hubble

Like the Hubble
  gaze in one
  mind spot
to find
  a thousand
  galaxies


— 725 —

God’s Cruelest Joke

Here’s the key
  He said
handing us
  the mind
Then slammed
  the door shut
—no lock (…wtf?)


— 726 —

Divine Digestion

Our little egos
  are all
  God’s enzymes
digesting His world
  for Him


— 727 —

Venus

Sweet morning star
  brightest by far
though much like hell
  or so they tell me


— 728 —

Air

The better I know
  the air
The more spirit
  and brain
gladly un-fuse


— 729 —

Homo Sensatus

It is feeling
  that we crave
More than life
More than death
More than
  freedom


— 730 —

God’s Heroin

Sex, at its core
  is nothing short of
a Divine
  engineering feat


— 731 —

Thinking

I swim an ocean
  of think
Every wave a
  current
to lure me down


— 732 —

Balancing Act

So easy to slip off
  the fine edge of now
  into past …future
  …else


— 733 —

Futility

We imagine
  reasoning as a key
though the sealed door
  has no lock

And so we reason
  and logic
in our quest
  to think
  the door open


— 734 —

Starlight

They are
  amazing things
are stars
  and their
billion-year-long
  orgasms


— 735 —

Ānāpānasati

When the silent
  roar of air
  drowns out
all madness
  we are
breathing well


— 736 —

Jealousy

This morning
  I saw fair Venus
drowned and
  vanished
by a jealous sun


— 737 —

Zazen

I asked him—
  What is Zazen?
He answered—
  Cool water
  on a hot day


— 738 —

Falling

Why is it that we
  as a rule
  fall in love
rather than
  rise in love


— 739 —

Concepts

Concepts are the
  scaffolding
  upon which
we hang the Walls
  of language


— 740 —

Meditation

Truth does not
  one day
  happen to you
You, over time
happen to Truth


— 741 —

Magic

The northern lights—
  God’s gay-pride flag
flapping slowly in
  the cosmic breeze


— 742 —

The Creator

Maker of the winter night
safe upon your throne—
  Distance your fortress


— 743 —

Dogs

Other people’s dogs
  are like grand kids
Enjoy them without
  cleaning poo


— 744 —

Pacifica

I dreamed—
  California
  Oregon
  Washington
seceded


— 745 —

Dancing

My days are not
  so much
  well planned
as exquisitely
  choreographed


— 746 —

Truth

Ultimately—
I think Truth is a
  wide-open
  willingness
to be


— 747 —

Who Are We?

The Truth says space
  Ego says oxygen
  Mind says air
Body says Earth


— 748 —

Zazen

Zazen is cool water
  on a hot day
Each breath an
  intimate sky


— 749 —

Bodhisattvas

Those who proclaimed
  Arahants to be selfish
were never, themselves
  Arahants


— 750 —

Internal/External

All perceptions
  stand in sharp
  (or dull) relief
against stillness
  (or noise)


— 751 —

Noise

In zazen stillness
  no resistance
  no collision
  no disturbance


— 752 —

Peace at Last

A desert of words
  surgically
  separated
from their meanings


— 753 —

Nirvana

We never quite left
  Nirvana
This life is but
  one of her windows


— 754 —

Painfully Employed

In the chicken
  slaughter house
We have to wear
  diapers—
No bathroom breaks

(or in Queen’s English)

In the chicken
  slaughter house
We have to wear
  nappies—
No toilet breaks


— 755 —

Feathered Friends

I shall not be
  fully pleased
until the raven’s
  had his fill
  of me

No, I shall not be
  fully pleased
until ravens fair
  have picked
  me clean

I shall not be
  fully pleased
till wind and sun
  have bleached
this empty hull

No, I shall not be
  fully pleased
till once again
  the joke’s
  but a joke


— 756 —

Variations on a Theme

The truth of
  one Particle
yields the truth
  of the whole
  Universe


— 757 —

Moon

Sickled winter moon
supervising wind and snow
keeping spring at bay


— 758 —

Zazen

The do nothing
  of zazen
is a close
  relative
to emptiness


— 759 —

Emptiness

Splitting Emptiness
  into emptinesses
calls for a
  Supreme Fool


— 760 —

Creation

From nothing to
  one single
  particle
That is all
  we need
  to know

As for the rest
  of the universe
Well, that is just
  more of the
  same

P.S. Okay, a lot more…


— 761 —

The Wolfku Garden

The Wolfku is
  the tree distilled
to seedling—mostly
  space and intent

The Musing is
  the seedling
nursed and profused
  into tree
  lush and green

The Wolfku Garden
  is the fecund ground
that grew both
  seedling and tree


— 762 —

Harmony

Ah, that the world’s
  mystics
  priests
  gurus
would talk and
  bloody well
  agree


— 763 —

Fox News

Fox News: not so much
  state-run television
more like TV-run state


— 764 —

Distances

Distance is relative
  to size
  as we grow
galaxies grow nearer


— 765 —

Problem

This Gordian knot
  we call existence
Zazen to see and
  cut it


— 766 —

Journal

I spy my thoughts
  they come and go
I write them down
  in their afterglow


— 767 —

Blood

Cut the universe
  anywhere
and you’ll discover
  that it bleeds light


— 768 —

Discipline Casts No Shadow

Discipline means
  discerning the conducive
  choosing the conducive

And Discipline means
  living the conducive
  teaching the conducive

And Conducive means
  conducive to peace
  to strength
  and to letting go


— 769 —

God’s Joke

God’s cruelest joke:
  Giving us reason
  as the key
to a lock-less door


— 770 —

Small Price

If Truth said
  You can enter
  but you’ll die
I’d enter
  in a heartbeat


— 771 —

Greed

Is it true, what I hear?
  Is it true?
That Greed is our new
  State Religion


— 772 —

Life

So obviously
  programmed
we should seek
  not God
but the Engineer


— 773 —

Evolution

And then we
  chopped up
  Emptiness
into little bits
and called them
  minds

And then we
  planted fields
with mind-bit seeds
  to then harvest them
  as selves


— 774 —

Of a Beautiful Day

On occasion
  in deep samadhi
I glimpse
I taste
I preview
  Death


— 775 —

Magic

The northern lights—
  God’s gay-pride flag
slowly waving in
  the cosmic wind


— 776 —

Zazen

As the tree
  remains anchored
  in earth
So we
  remain anchored
  in mind

I sit to out-be
  this tree
to out-be
  these roots
to out-be
  this mind


— 777 —

Distant

From a great distance
(say, from Pluto)
the Earth is too small
  for evil even to fit


— 778 —

English

Speechless is a case
  of forgetting
  the entire
English language


— 779 —

Man Union

Dear God
We would like to
  unionize
if you don’t mind
  —But I do mind


— 780 —

Survival

The imperative
  to survive:
a near—
  but only near
absolute


— 781 —

Trillions

One big problem
  is that we
  consider
  a trillion
to be many

Sufficiently aware
  we would look
  at a trillion
and see a few


— 782 —

Lies

2 lies—
  1912 I did not
  2112 I will not
exist


— 783 —

Tombs

How do you
  entomb
  the spirit’s
  awareness—
Bring to bear
  pain and sex


— 784 —

Memories

My this-life
  chrysalis
has sprung
   some leaks
Earlier lives
  filter through


— 785 —

Infant Evil

Of baby Satan—
that so much evil
could fit in such a
  small thing


— 786 —

Leverage

Give me a fulcrum
  and a long enough stick
  and I will move the Earth

© Archimedes


— 787 —

Food

Nature is just one
  big beautiful
  multicolored
feeding frenzy


— 788 —

Why the Interest

So, our intergalactic
  visitors
How do they know
  about us

(It’s not like we
stand out or anything)


— 789 —

Playing

Life is a game
  to stave off
  boredom
Karma is its
  ancient Bible


— 790 —

Out of Sight

God hides behind
  an amazing
  and complex
micro-macro curtain


— 791 —

Stillnesses

Zazen stillness
  is an Earthly
  cousin
to the Ultimate
  stillness


— 792 —

Ignorance

How do you
  dumb the
  spirit down?
Don a self
  tie the laces
swim Styx


— 793 —

Plumbers

Methinks (going by
  their hourly rates):
Plumbers are
  the new Lawyers

Hence:

Sayeth the Bard:
  The first thing
  we have to do
is kill all the
  Plumbers


— 794 —

Crescent City, CA

Living as closely
  to Japan
  as I can
without wetting
  my feet


— 795 —

Modern Compassion

Well, he/she says,
  that’s enough
  about me
Here is what I think
  about you


— 796 —

The Body

The body is not
  a thing
but an intricately
  layered event


— 797 —

Words

I am drowning
  in language
all these words
  sentences;
  semi-colons


— 798 —

Rising

I rise from the sea
  of language
shaking off myriad
  word droplets


— 799 —

A Vegan Hymn

The encaged calf
  grows no muscle
So much easier
  for us to chew

The enraged soul
  hostage to pain
will never quite for
  get nor give you


— 800 —

Meanings

I sail a sea
  of meaning
fragile hull
  brittle sails
adrift I drown

I pace a cage
  of meaning
Iron bars
  frozen tongue
indeed, I drown

I scale a tree
  of meaning
chorus leaves
  life above
I flex my wings

I leave the house
  of meaning
open doors
  open air
I flee, I fly


— End —