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 eleventh installment.

Wolfkus 1001 – 1100

— 1001 —

Morning

Dawn doors swing open
Fresh green fields await me
Lots of things to sing


— 1002 —

Analog World

Two flowers, one white
one blue, among gray rubble
a muted iPhone


— 1003 —

Planet Earth

The whole Universe
  is laughing at us
and our sex-crazed
  little planet

The whole Universe
  is grieving for us
and our sex-crazed
  little planet

The whole Universe
  is avoiding us
and our sex-crazed
  little planet

The whole Universe
  is praying for us
and our sex-crazed
  little planet


— 1004 —

Peace

Where not even a
single thought
  can find footing:
A glad mind at ease


— 1005 —

Sex Attack

When the mind hints
  red like blood
  like roses
sex is just about
  to pounce


— 1006 —

Perception

The senses are
  but mind
  reflections
At times we are
  aware of this


— 1007 —

Just Sitting

I am bridging
  the chasm
between concept
  and actuality


— 1008 —

Procreation

God created alcohol
  to make sure
that people had sex
  —often


— 1009 —

Downstream

Man is so far
  downstream
he cannot even
  conceive
of headwaters


— 1010 —

Meditatronome

Local fog horn—
  every ten seconds
this fine
  meditatronome
sings


— 1011 —

Spinal Gap

Yeah, sure
  says Mahayana
but our Nirvana
  goes to eleven


— 1012 —

Fragments

You can
  fragment mind
but you can
  never ever
fragment
  Emptiness

Emptiness clings
  to a trillion
  trillion minds
we uncling
  one by one


— 1013 —

Emptiness

Where no thing
  can grow
no thing
  can decay
Thus, with ever
  emptiness


— 1014 —

Deconstruction

I deconstruct my day
  by disconnecting
all these sensory dots


— 1015 —

Anapanasati

From find air
  know air
  be air
  ease air
to word-free
  thought-free
  mind-free air


— 1016 —

Chasm

Emptiness had
  one mammoth
    chasm
to bridge:
  How to make
things persist?


— 1017 —

Carnivore

This is the most
  dangerous of
  all carnivores:
Homo sapiens


— 1018 —

Meditation

I am bridging
  the chasm
between
  conceptual
and actual


— 1019 —

Compassion

Looking back at Earth
from Home Planet
How can I not
  feel compassion


— 1020 —

Suffering

Truly, on this planet
  there is only
  one crime—
to cause suffering

On this planet
  there is only
  one kindness—
to relieve suffering


— 1021 —

Nighttime

One near sun sets
as a trillion far suns
  stir and rise to
take its place


— 1022 —

Fear

I fear letting go
  for if that
  is not it
I don’t know
  what to do


— 1023 —

Emptiness

Emptiness is cloaked
  in a thousand coats
Here I sit—
  letting them go


— 1024 —

Angel Heart

My Angel Heart
  buried under
layers and layers
  till beats
  and knows


— 1025 —

Responsibility

It’s all up to Him
God made me, sees me
steers me—
Buck, thoroughly passed


— 1026 —

Self

I believe Self
  is simply
  another way
of saying
  Separate


— 1027 —

Letting Go

 In order to let go
  you need to know
what you are
  holding on to


— 1028 —

Oubliette

The Earth—
  an oubliette
lid hermetically
  sealed
No air
  in here


— 1029 —

Amnesia

Wow, for a
  moment there
I forgot the entire
  English language


— 1030 —

Thought Prison

I love this prison
  I am building
thought-brick by
  though-brick by
thought-brick


— 1031 —

Distances

We are imprisoned
  by solitary distance
To leave: Let it go

Leaving this fortress
means letting
  all distances
fade into the light


— 1032 —

Distances

We are imprisoned
  by solitary distance
To leave: Let it go

Leaving this fortress
means letting
  all distances
fade into the light


— 1033 —

Fusing

Surely—
  spiritual fusing
is the opposite
  of letting go


— 1034 —

Craving

Casting yourself in
a good light
  highlights not your
features
  but your needs


— 1035 —

Fusing

The spiritual
  movement
  of fusing:
Think—fuse
Crave fame—
  fuse harder


— 1036 —

Moon

Many-fingered hands
  arms and teeth
  and starving eyes
Lunging for the moon


— 1037 —

Pure Emptiness

When you let go
  all words
Something
  wonderful
happens:
  No-word

When you let go
  all thoughts
Something
  wonderful
happens:
  No-thought

When you let go
  all selves
Something
  wonderful
happens:
  No-self

When you let go
  all things
Something
  wonderful
happens:
  Pure
Emptiness


— 1038 —

Clarity

A trillion milky
  tendrils
hover between
  the Buddha
and myself

One by one
  they evaporate
one by one
  they gift me
clarity


— 1039 —

Clarity

A trillion milky
  tendrils
hover between
  the Buddha
and myself

One by one
  they evaporate
one by one
  they gift me
clarity


— 1040 —

Relief

I have been off
  the News Grid
for some time now
  Dear God,
what a relief


— 1041 —

The End

If enough of us
  reach Nirvana
can’t we just
  end the game
for all?


— 1042 —

Time

I see that
  whatever is
  going on
is certainly
  ongoing


— 1043 —

Charlatan Fraudster

True Love
  has been
hijacked by Sex
  and now leads
her around
  by the nose

Yes, Sex bottled
  True Love up
and now
  sips her
one small drop
  at a time

Sex—Charlatan
  and Fraudster
drunk on Love
  now believes
he is beauty

Karma, wake up
and give
  this Charlatan
  this Fraudster
his deserved due


— 1044 —

Basic Laws

To let go
  you must know
what you
  hold on to—
this is
  fundamental

Wide-aware
  Samadhi
will reveal
  to you
everything
  you cling to


— 1045 —

Mystery

Why do human beings
resonate so well
with demagoguery?


— 1046 —

Anapanazazen

Every breath
  a silent river
shining through
  this vast
wonderful space


— 1047 —

Lost

He no longer
  has his dog
I have never
  seen a human
so lost


— 1048 —

Self

The self is but
  a figment of
Emptiness’s
  imagination


— 1049 —

Gurus

When it comes to
  guiding others
your best guess
  just isn’t
good enough


— 1050 —

Says Hongzhi

Be empty and
  desireless
cold and thin
simple and
  genuine


— 1051 —

Bodhisattva

I wear the Universe
  I dance, I Code
I sit for all
  sentient life


— 1052 —

To All Saviors

If you’re gonna
  preach it
  as Truth
then it had
  damn well
better be
  Truth


— 1053 —

Walking

When I’m walking
  I am always in
my own portable
  universe


— 1054 —

Inventor

I’d like to meet him
Whoever invented sex
and turn the tables


— 1055 —

Memories

My seeing-eye mind
  knows that
memories hurt
  and refuses
to fetch


— 1056 —

WD-40

Rust has only
  one natural
enemy—
  WD-40


— 1057 —

Irony

Ultimate irony—
  stopped for
  speeding
on your way to
  traffic school


— 1058 —

Language Birds

All these
  Language birds
circling the
  Tower of Babel
come here
  to roost


— 1059 —

Avijja

Isn’t Avijja
simply our not
knowing we are
doing all this


— 1060 —

Unbe

Emptiness
  can never unbe
nor can Emptiness
  ever unlive


— 1061 —

Dusk

If a dark
  premonition
dawns on you
Wouldn’t it then
  dusk on you?


— 1062 —

Quality

Before the beginning
  dormant Quality—
then Quality awoke


— 1063 —

Glory

Occasionally
  this body/mind
complex
  springs a
glorious leak


— 1064 —

Border Crossing

To reach everyone
  I cross
all borders
  of body
  of self
  of mind


— 1065 —

Bit by Bit

I sit, I breathe
  I stir and
welcome back
  every long lost
  bit of me


— 1066 —

Emptiness

Same then as now
  as tomorrow—
the Emptiness who
  begets us all


— 1067 —

Wolfkus

If you can’t say it
  in seventeen
  syllables
it’s unsayable


— 1068 —

Jhana

Isn’t Jhana bliss
  also a matter
of much refined
  perception


— 1069 —

Teacher

I have found
  my spiritual
  Teacher
his name is
  Dōgen Zenji


— 1070 —

Emptiness

Emptiness is cloaked
  in a thousand nights
Here and now
  I shed them all


— 1071 —

Arrogance

Ah, the arrogance
  of mankind
Ask any Orion
  resident


— 1072 —

Orgasm

Verily, the Sun’s
  orgasm
is of aeonian
  proportion


— 1073 —

Astronomy

It’s relative—
  the Universe
seems so large
  because we
seem so small


— 1074 —

Physics

It’s relative—
  the molecule
seems so small
  because we
seem so big


— 1075 —

Ego Fish

My ego is like
  a fish on dry land
flopping about
  for water


— 1076 —

Ego Meltdown

I’m having an
  Ego meltdown
That’s a good thing
  a very good thing


— 1077 —

Dogen

Reading Dogen
  is like finding
long-ago
Post-It notes
  to myself


— 1078 —

Grim Purpose

The grim purpose
  of planet Earth:
Keep the mind
  busy not
  going free


— 1079 —

Movement

In utter stillness
  an intention
a wish, a hope
  is a movement


— 1080 —

Indigenous

It’s not as if
  images
  hopes
  thoughts
step into
  the mind
from without


— 1081 —

Pelicans

Through a fog
  and airborne river
  of pelicans
Nirvana on Earth


— 1082 —

Nimitta

When air seizes
  a brush
to color my space
  Nimitta arises


— 1083 —

Thoughts of Sex

Thinking about
  thinking about sex
is as disruptive as
  anything


— 1084 —

Creation

To forget His
  creation
God tied himself
  in celestial
  knots


— 1085 —

Food

Verily, Life
  asked unto God:
“What do we eat?”
God said:
  “Each other.”


— 1086 —

Pictures

Said Eihei Dogen
Life is a painted
  picture
painting a
  picture


— 1087 —

Sirens

Crossing these waters
  hear not
  fear not
  heed not
the songs of the sirens


— 1088 —

Garments

At times
  I dress myself
in thoughts—
in winged shoes
  and baffling
  overcoat


— 1089 —

Still Here

Emptiness might
  have fragmented
  itself
but it never went
  away

(cannot go away)


— 1090 —

Cessation

No one has made it
  all the way out yet
—The Universe
  is still here


— 1091 —

Views

Someone
  Something
Somewhere
  Somehow
pondering
  at depth
came up
  with this


— 1092 —

Memory

Julie Christies
  emerge out of
the mind’s
  artificial
  emptiness

(then recede
back into it)


— 1093 —

Answers

Why scan the past
  for answers
when the truth
  of the present
holds them all


— 1094 —

Freedom

I have peaked
  through these cracks
in the wall—
  and I know
there is
  an outside

(as well as
  an out)


— 1095 —

Blindness

What can it be
  I don’t want to find
I don’t want to know
  I don’t want to see


— 1096 —

Holy Crutches

Clinging to gurus
Clinging to beliefs
—strong, transparent
  barriers


— 1097 —

Views

Someone
  Somewhere
in time and space
  identifiable
came up with
  all this


— 1098 —

Messed Up

Verily, Life asked
  unto God:
“So, what shall
  we eat?”
Equally verily
  He answered
  unto us:
“Each other.”


— 1099 —

Samsara

Truly, Samsara is
  the existential
soup that we all
  drown in


— 1100 —

Ego

Ego: a patchwork
of feelings
views, memories
and thoughts


— End —