I wrote a poem about our weekend.  It was going to be just about sitting under the tree ( Zazen on Strawberry Fields ), but I kept going and did the whole day.  So it's a tad long (206 lines), but the lines are VERY short (each just five syllables).  - Ned  zazen on strawberry fields  the day was perfect  two days till bloomsday  the rainstorms had passed  the park was pristine  a crystal blue sky  the grass a lush green  waiting for the group  with mary and pete  antsy had to move  took a walk around  the perimeter  a person or two  tucked in the edges  of the small circle  called strawberry fields  at the far limit  sounds of a trumpet  played by a young man  far below - someone  to watch over me  beautifully distant  unheard by any  in these heights but me  then circled back home  to mary and pete  and came to a tree  an oak tree maybe  shirt spread out shoes off  the slope by the roots  perfect for sitting  left leg over right  today a buddha  hands cupped thumbs touching  now quiet quiet  become still become  like that young rabbit  in the yard years past  stone frozen solid  impossibly still  like what they call 'tharn'  in watership down  and now just nothing  the blades of grass strobe  move the eyes slightly  the grass is just grass  then a bright flash from  mary's camera  keep sitting waiting  for another flash  that never happens  keep sitting and keep...  oops just looked it's kim  so time to get up  unwind legs do shoes  amble on over  soon there's all the rest  ben daryl and T  weasel and sandy  disparate greetings  real faces replace  long imaginings  small talk and chatter  then someone suggests  moving getting up  seeking consensus  herding these stray cats  and the body moves  miraculously  lennon's imagine  mosaic crowded  adorned and contained  in iron gratings  a keeper places  the votive flowers  artfully amid  photos love notes a  small plastic walrus  we go west young man  to manhattan schist  rock that made gotham  a bronze falconer  grabs our attention  loin cloth amid kilts  cellphones are deployed  megapixels click  and the herd ambles  there looms a tower  man-made sixty feet  smooth parabola  to test the mettle  of these youngsters on  skate-boards and dirt bikes  cranes take them skyward  and they plunge downward  into the abyss  and resurrection  bronze statues abound  a poet's circle  burns scott and shakespeare  the haunting refrain  an asian artist  one-stringed violin  he brings east to west  and thus we move on  and now we are lost  and we have to pee  with no place to pee  we reconnoiter  when pete finds a map  our goal is the zoo  which has two toilets  and two restaurants  so we trek onward  the zoo is a zoo  everyone consumes  squirrels and pigeons  not least excluded  we discuss de sade  one hundred twenty  days of sodom - yikes  they made a movie!  and the young mother  next to us hears our  obscene discussion  horrified we fail  to get her picture  cameras never  catch the true essence  of outrageous life  and then ben conceives  of jake's dilemma  and suggests a bus  in lieu of the train  many blocks distant  and it's hot now and  humid and sticky  so we ask weasel  to please make it rain  to cool all this down  but only while we're  snug in the bar please  the bus is crowded  but cool and the view  down through the windows  is a street-level  panorama of  life in the city  up amsterdam to  that old dilemma  there is a cozy  raised room in the back  darkened with sofas  and fat easy chairs  it's perfect again  there's books and a short  recitation but  conversation soars  quickly on the ears  of pitchers of beer  and then it happens  the drenching cloudburst!  the bars starts to fill  we two have to leave  for a shower and  change of clothes dodging  the raindrops to the  subway though mary  brought an umbrella  when we get back they've  moved next door to the  rib place and the rain  has pretty much stopped  another raised room  with chicken-wire walls  door in the middle  two tables for twelve  LB and ben's friend  birgitte and kim  round out the dozen  shoulder to shoulder  for southern-fried sin  food keeps on coming  and with it more beer  words like a river  gurgle and babble  splashing from table  to table kim gives  us each a cd  of neon machine  it's getting later  the place is jumping  crammed to the rafters  it's been a long day  time for the subway  on our way back in  an asian sees our  t-shirts and comments  'a competition  in meditation  but shouldn't that be  anathema?' yes  finally at last  somebody gets it  our new friend departs  much less than amused                    - Ned

sitting under the tree ( Zazen on Strawberry Fields ), but I kept going and did the whole day.  So it's a tad long (206 lines), but the lines are VERY short (each just five syllables).  - Ned zazen on strawberry fields the day was perfect two days till bloomsday the rainstorms had passed the park was pristine a crystal blue sky the grass a lush green waiting for the group with mary and pete antsy had to move took a walk around the perimeter a person or two tucked in the edges of the small circle called strawberry fields at the far limit sounds of a trumpet played by a young man far below - someone to watch over me beautifully distant unheard by any in these heights but me then circled back home to mary and pete and came to a tree an oak tree maybe shirt spread out shoes off the slope by the roots perfect for sitting left leg over right today a buddha hands cupped thumbs touching now quiet quiet become still become like that young rabbit in the yard years past stone frozen solid impossibly still like what they call 'tharn' in watership down and now just nothing the blades of grass strobe move the eyes slightly the grass is just grass then a bright flash from mary's camera keep sitting waiting for another flash that never happens keep sitting and keep... oops just looked it's kim so time to get up unwind legs do shoes amble on over soon there's all the rest ben daryl and T weasel and sandy disparate greetings real faces replace long imaginings small talk and chatter then someone suggests moving getting up seeking consensus herding these stray cats and the body moves miraculously lennon's imagine mosaic crowded adorned and contained in iron gratings a keeper places the votive flowers artfully amid photos love notes a small plastic walrus we go west young man to manhattan schist rock that made gotham a bronze falconer grabs our attention loin cloth amid kilts cellphones are deployed megapixels click and the herd ambles there looms a tower man-made sixty feet smooth parabola to test the mettle of these youngsters on skate-boards and dirt bikes cranes take them skyward and they plunge downward into the abyss and resurrection bronze statues abound a poet's circle burns scott and shakespeare the haunting refrain an asian artist one-stringed violin he brings east to west and thus we move on and now we are lost and we have to pee with no place to pee we reconnoiter when pete finds a map our goal is the zoo which has two toilets and two restaurants so we trek onward the zoo is a zoo everyone consumes squirrels and pigeons not least excluded we discuss de sade one hundred twenty days of sodom - yikes they made a movie! and the young mother next to us hears our obscene discussion horrified we fail to get her picture cameras never catch the true essence of outrageous life and then ben conceives of jake's dilemma and suggests a bus in lieu of the train many blocks distant and it's hot now and humid and sticky so we ask weasel to please make it rain to cool all this down but only while we're snug in the bar please the bus is crowded but cool and the view down through the windows is a street-level panorama of life in the city up amsterdam to that old dilemma there is a cozy raised room in the back darkened with sofas and fat easy chairs it's perfect again there's books and a short recitation but conversation soars quickly on the ears of pitchers of beer and then it happens the drenching cloudburst! the bars starts to fill we two have to leave for a shower and change of clothes dodging the raindrops to the subway though mary brought an umbrella when we get back they've moved next door to the rib place and the rain has pretty much stopped another raised room with chicken-wire walls door in the middle two tables for twelve LB and ben's friend birgitte and kim round out the dozen shoulder to shoulder for southern-fried sin food keeps on coming and with it more beer words like a river gurgle and babble splashing from table to table kim gives us each a cd of neon machine it's getting later the place is jumping crammed to the rafters it's been a long day time for the subway on our way back in an asian sees our t-shirts and comments 'a competition in meditation but shouldn't that be anathema?' yes finally at last somebody gets it our new friend departs much less than amused                   - Ned Love it, love it.  You make me wish I'd hocked my car to go!   MK<Maybe next time

  I wrote a poem about our weekend.  It was going to be just about sitting under the tree ( Zazen on Strawberry Fields ), but I kept going and did the whole day.  So it's a tad long (206 lines), but the lines are VERY short (each just five syllables).  - Ned  zazen on strawberry fields  the day was perfect  two days till bloomsday  the rainstorms had passed  the park was pristine  a crystal blue sky  the grass a lush green  waiting for the group  with mary and pete  antsy had to move  took a walk around  the perimeter  a person or two  tucked in the edges  of the small circle  called strawberry fields  at the far limit  sounds of a trumpet  played by a young man  far below - someone  to watch over me  beautifully distant  unheard by any  in these heights but me  then circled back home  to mary and pete  and came to a tree  an oak tree maybe  shirt spread out shoes off  the slope by the roots  perfect for sitting  left leg over right  today a buddha  hands cupped thumbs touching  now quiet quiet  become still become  like that young rabbit  in the yard years past  stone frozen solid  impossibly still  like what they call 'tharn'  in watership down  and now just nothing  the blades of grass strobe  move the eyes slightly  the grass is just grass  then a bright flash from  mary's camera  keep sitting waiting  for another flash  that never happens  keep sitting and keep...  oops just looked it's kim  so time to get up  unwind legs do shoes  amble on over  soon there's all the rest  ben daryl and T  weasel and sandy  disparate greetings  real faces replace  long imaginings  small talk and chatter  then someone suggests  moving getting up  seeking consensus  herding these stray cats  and the body moves  miraculously  lennon's imagine  mosaic crowded  adorned and contained  in iron gratings  a keeper places  the votive flowers  artfully amid  photos love notes a  small plastic walrus  we go west young man  to manhattan schist  rock that made gotham  a bronze falconer  grabs our attention  loin cloth amid kilts  cellphones are deployed  megapixels click  and the herd ambles  there looms a tower  man-made sixty feet  smooth parabola  to test the mettle  of these youngsters on  skate-boards and dirt bikes  cranes take them skyward  and they plunge downward  into the abyss  and resurrection  bronze statues abound  a poet's circle  burns scott and shakespeare  the haunting refrain  an asian artist  one-stringed violin  he brings east to west  and thus we move on  and now we are lost  and we have to pee  with no place to pee  we reconnoiter  when pete finds a map  our goal is the zoo  which has two toilets  and two restaurants  so we trek onward  the zoo is a zoo  everyone consumes  squirrels and pigeons  not least excluded  we discuss de sade  one hundred twenty  days of sodom - yikes  they made a movie!  and the young mother  next to us hears our  obscene discussion  horrified we fail  to get her picture  cameras never  catch the true essence  of outrageous life  and then ben conceives  of jake's dilemma  and suggests a bus  in lieu of the train  many blocks distant  and it's hot now and  humid and sticky  so we ask weasel  to please make it rain  to cool all this down  but only while we're  snug in the bar please  the bus is crowded  but cool and the view  down through the windows  is a street-level  panorama of  life in the city  up amsterdam to  that old dilemma  there is a cozy  raised room in the back  darkened with sofas  and fat easy chairs  it's perfect again  there's books and a short  recitation but  conversation soars  quickly on the ears  of pitchers of beer  and then it happens  the drenching cloudburst!  the bars starts to fill  we two have to leave  for a shower and  change of clothes dodging  the raindrops to the  subway though mary  brought an umbrella  when we get back they've  moved next door to the  rib place and the rain  has pretty much stopped  another raised room  with chicken-wire walls  door in the middle  two tables for twelve  LB and ben's friend  birgitte and kim  round out the dozen  shoulder to shoulder  for southern-fried sin  food keeps on coming  and with it more beer  words like a river  gurgle and babble  splashing from table  to table kim gives  us each a cd  of neon machine  it's getting later  the place is jumping  crammed to the rafters  it's been a long day  time for the subway  on our way back in  an asian sees our  t-shirts and comments  'a competition  in meditation  but shouldn't that be  anathema?' yes  finally at last  somebody gets it  our new friend departs  much less than amused                    - Ned Oh, to have been there... Don

  I wrote a poem about our weekend.  It was going to be just about sitting under the tree ( Zazen on Strawberry Fields ), but I kept going and did the whole day.  So it's a tad long (206 lines), but the lines are VERY short (each just five syllables).  - Ned  zazen on strawberry fields  the day was perfect  two days till bloomsday  the rainstorms had passed  the park was pristine  a crystal blue sky  the grass a lush green  waiting for the group  with mary and pete  antsy had to move  took a walk around  the perimeter  a person or two  tucked in the edges  of the small circle  called strawberry fields  at the far limit  sounds of a trumpet  played by a young man  far below - someone  to watch over me  beautifully distant  unheard by any  in these heights but me  then circled back home  to mary and pete  and came to a tree  an oak tree maybe  shirt spread out shoes off  the slope by the roots  perfect for sitting  left leg over right  today a buddha  hands cupped thumbs touching  now quiet quiet  become still become  like that young rabbit  in the yard years past  stone frozen solid  impossibly still  like what they call 'tharn'  in watership down  and now just nothing  the blades of grass strobe  move the eyes slightly  the grass is just grass  then a bright flash from  mary's camera  keep sitting waiting  for another flash  that never happens  keep sitting and keep...  oops just looked it's kim  so time to get up  unwind legs do shoes  amble on over  soon there's all the rest  ben daryl and T  weasel and sandy  disparate greetings  real faces replace  long imaginings  small talk and chatter  then someone suggests  moving getting up  seeking consensus  herding these stray cats  and the body moves  miraculously  lennon's imagine  mosaic crowded  adorned and contained  in iron gratings  a keeper places  the votive flowers  artfully amid  photos love notes a  small plastic walrus  we go west young man  to manhattan schist  rock that made gotham  a bronze falconer  grabs our attention  loin cloth amid kilts  cellphones are deployed  megapixels click  and the herd ambles  there looms a tower  man-made sixty feet  smooth parabola  to test the mettle  of these youngsters on  skate-boards and dirt bikes  cranes take them skyward  and they plunge downward  into the abyss  and resurrection  bronze statues abound  a poet's circle  burns scott and shakespeare  the haunting refrain  an asian artist  one-stringed violin  he brings east to west  and thus we move on  and now we are lost  and we have to pee  with no place to pee  we reconnoiter  when pete finds a map  our goal is the zoo  which has two toilets  and two restaurants  so we trek onward  the zoo is a zoo  everyone consumes  squirrels and pigeons  not least excluded  we discuss de sade  one hundred twenty  days of sodom - yikes  they made a movie!  and the young mother  next to us hears our  obscene discussion  horrified we fail  to get her picture  cameras never  catch the true essence  of outrageous life  and then ben conceives  of jake's dilemma  and suggests a bus  in lieu of the train  many blocks distant  and it's hot now and  humid and sticky  so we ask weasel  to please make it rain  to cool all this down  but only while we're  snug in the bar please  the bus is crowded  but cool and the view  down through the windows  is a street-level  panorama of  life in the city  up amsterdam to  that old dilemma  there is a cozy  raised room in the back  darkened with sofas  and fat easy chairs  it's perfect again  there's books and a short  recitation but  conversation soars  quickly on the ears  of pitchers of beer  and then it happens  the drenching cloudburst!  the bars starts to fill  we two have to leave  for a shower and  change of clothes dodging  the raindrops to the  subway though mary  brought an umbrella  when we get back they've  moved next door to the  rib place and the rain  has pretty much stopped  another raised room  with chicken-wire walls  door in the middle  two tables for twelve  LB and ben's friend  birgitte and kim  round out the dozen  shoulder to shoulder  for southern-fried sin  food keeps on coming  and with it more beer  words like a river  gurgle and babble  splashing from table  to table kim gives  us each a cd  of neon machine  it's getting later  the place is jumping  crammed to the rafters  it's been a long day  time for the subway  on our way back in  an asian sees our  t-shirts and comments  'a competition  in meditation  but shouldn't that be  anathema?' yes  finally at last  somebody gets it  our new friend departs  much less than amused <snap, snap, snap ...

 I wrote a poem about our weekend.  It was going to be just about sitting under the tree ( Zazen on Strawberry Fields ), but I kept going and did the whole day.  So it's a tad long (206 lines), but the lines are VERY short (each just five syllables).  - Ned zazen on strawberry fields the day was perfect two days till bloomsday the rainstorms had passed the park was pristine a crystal blue sky the grass a lush green waiting for the group with mary and pete antsy had to move took a walk around the perimeter a person or two tucked in the edges of the small circle called strawberry fields at the far limit sounds of a trumpet played by a young man far below - someone to watch over me beautifully distant unheard by any in these heights but me then circled back home to mary and pete and came to a tree an oak tree maybe shirt spread out shoes off the slope by the roots perfect for sitting left leg over right today a buddha hands cupped thumbs touching now quiet quiet become still become like that young rabbit in the yard years past stone frozen solid impossibly still like what they call 'tharn' in watership down and now just nothing the blades of grass strobe move the eyes slightly the grass is just grass then a bright flash from mary's camera keep sitting waiting for another flash that never happens keep sitting and keep... oops just looked it's kim so time to get up unwind legs do shoes amble on over soon there's all the rest ben daryl and T weasel and sandy disparate greetings real faces replace long imaginings small talk and chatter then someone suggests moving getting up seeking consensus herding these stray cats and the body moves miraculously lennon's imagine mosaic crowded adorned and contained in iron gratings a keeper places the votive flowers artfully amid photos love notes a small plastic walrus we go west young man to manhattan schist rock that made gotham a bronze falconer grabs our attention loin cloth amid kilts cellphones are deployed megapixels click and the herd ambles there looms a tower man-made sixty feet smooth parabola to test the mettle of these youngsters on skate-boards and dirt bikes cranes take them skyward and they plunge downward into the abyss and resurrection bronze statues abound a poet's circle burns scott and shakespeare the haunting refrain an asian artist one-stringed violin he brings east to west and thus we move on and now we are lost and we have to pee with no place to pee we reconnoiter when pete finds a map our goal is the zoo which has two toilets and two restaurants so we trek onward the zoo is a zoo everyone consumes squirrels and pigeons not least excluded we discuss de sade one hundred twenty days of sodom - yikes they made a movie! and the young mother next to us hears our obscene discussion horrified we fail to get her picture cameras never catch the true essence of outrageous life and then ben conceives of jake's dilemma and suggests a bus in lieu of the train many blocks distant and it's hot now and humid and sticky so we ask weasel to please make it rain to cool all this down but only while we're snug in the bar please the bus is crowded but cool and the view down through the windows is a street-level panorama of life in the city up amsterdam to that old dilemma there is a cozy raised room in the back darkened with sofas and fat easy chairs it's perfect again there's books and a short recitation but conversation soars quickly on the ears of pitchers of beer and then it happens the drenching cloudburst! the bars starts to fill we two have to leave for a shower and change of clothes dodging the raindrops to the subway though mary brought an umbrella when we get back they've moved next door to the rib place and the rain has pretty much stopped another raised room with chicken-wire walls door in the middle two tables for twelve LB and ben's friend birgitte and kim round out the dozen shoulder to shoulder for southern-fried sin food keeps on coming and with it more beer words like a river gurgle and babble splashing from table to table kim gives us each a cd of neon machine it's getting later the place is jumping crammed to the rafters it's been a long day time for the subway on our way back in an asian sees our t-shirts and comments 'a competition in meditation but shouldn't that be anathema?' yes finally at last somebody gets it our new friend departs much less than amused <snap, snap, snap ... Ned is such a hep cat. Don

Ned writes:  I wrote a poem about our weekend.  It was going to be just about sitting under the tree ( Zazen on Strawberry Fields ), but I kept going and did the whole day.  So it's a tad long (206 lines), but the lines are VERY short (each just five syllables).  - Ned zazen on strawberry fields the day was perfect two days till bloomsday the rainstorms had passed the park was pristine a crystal blue sky the grass a lush green waiting for the group with mary and pete antsy had to move took a walk around the perimeter a person or two tucked in the edges of the small circle called strawberry fields at the far limit sounds of a trumpet played by a young man far below - someone to watch over me beautifully distant unheard by any in these heights but me then circled back home to mary and pete and came to a tree an oak tree maybe shirt spread out shoes off the slope by the roots perfect for sitting left leg over right today a buddha hands cupped thumbs touching now quiet quiet become still become like that young rabbit in the yard years past stone frozen solid impossibly still like what they call 'tharn' in watership down and now just nothing the blades of grass strobe move the eyes slightly the grass is just grass then a bright flash from mary's camera keep sitting waiting for another flash that never happens keep sitting and keep... oops just looked it's kim so time to get up unwind legs do shoes amble on over soon there's all the rest ben daryl and T weasel and sandy disparate greetings real faces replace long imaginings small talk and chatter then someone suggests moving getting up seeking consensus herding these stray cats and the body moves miraculously lennon's imagine mosaic crowded adorned and contained in iron gratings a keeper places the votive flowers artfully amid photos love notes a small plastic walrus we go west young man to manhattan schist rock that made gotham a bronze falconer grabs our attention loin cloth amid kilts cellphones are deployed megapixels click and the herd ambles there looms a tower man-made sixty feet smooth parabola to test the mettle of these youngsters on skate-boards and dirt bikes cranes take them skyward and they plunge downward into the abyss and resurrection bronze statues abound a poet's circle burns scott and shakespeare the haunting refrain an asian artist one-stringed violin he brings east to west and thus we move on and now we are lost and we have to pee with no place to pee we reconnoiter when pete finds a map our goal is the zoo which has two toilets and two restaurants so we trek onward the zoo is a zoo everyone consumes squirrels and pigeons not least excluded we discuss de sade one hundred twenty days of sodom - yikes they made a movie! and the young mother next to us hears our obscene discussion horrified we fail to get her picture cameras never catch the true essence of outrageous life and then ben conceives of jake's dilemma and suggests a bus in lieu of the train many blocks distant and it's hot now and humid and sticky so we ask weasel to please make it rain to cool all this down but only while we're snug in the bar please the bus is crowded but cool and the view down through the windows is a street-level panorama of life in the city up amsterdam to that old dilemma there is a cozy raised room in the back darkened with sofas and fat easy chairs it's perfect again there's books and a short recitation but conversation soars quickly on the ears of pitchers of beer and then it happens the drenching cloudburst! the bars starts to fill we two have to leave for a shower and change of clothes dodging the raindrops to the subway though mary brought an umbrella when we get back they've moved next door to the rib place and the rain has pretty much stopped another raised room with chicken-wire walls door in the middle two tables for twelve LB and ben's friend birgitte and kim round out the dozen shoulder to shoulder for southern-fried sin food keeps on coming and with it more beer words like a river gurgle and babble splashing from table to table kim gives us each a cd of neon machine it's getting later the place is jumping crammed to the rafters it's been a long day time for the subway on our way back in an asian sees our t-shirts and comments 'a competition in meditation but shouldn't that be anathema?' yes finally at last somebody gets it our new friend departs much less than amused <snap, snap, snap ... Ned is such a hep cat. We are all pretty much unrepentent beatniks. Hell, my desktop picture is this great photo that Mary took of the two of us staring at a giant Jackson Pollock canvas ( One: Number 31 ). We were too cool for words, daddy-o.