A Gift of Dried Garlic Flowers

At the Edges of the Fertile West
Volume 2

By Mike Garofalo

Travels on US Highway 99 and Interstate 5

Great Agricultural Valleys
Coastal, Sierra, and Cascade Mountains
California, Oregon, Washington States
Memories of Pacific Coast Places
West Coast Snapshots & Snippets

Rhymed and Free Verse
Short Poems, Haiku, Photos
One-Liners, Text Art
Concrete Poems, Lists
On: Details, Time, Farms, Gardens

Table of Contents, Volume 2, Alphabetical

Index, Subjects, Themes, Ideas

At the Edges of the West, Volume 1

25 Steps and Beyond: Collected Works

Highway 101 and 1: Pacific Coast

A Gift of Dried Garlic Flowers
At The Edges of the Fertile West, Volume 2
By Mike Garofalo

The Raven Broke Open the Magical Clam


qwaxwqx ?astaw s?axu tas?
asutelciba cicaxw tebixw

Table of Contents

Myths and Lore
Of the Native Peoples of the Pacific Northwest
Puget Sound and Vancouver Island Regions

Winter at the Door

All the cabbages in our garden
are robust green to the core;
All the peppers are dead black,
not green and red anymore.
The onions are thriving,
the tomatoes all gone,
The lettuce is rising,
the Fava beans all stored—
It’s wet now in Red Bluff,
Winter’s knocking at the door.

outside the door
bone dry
    dog turds
laced with frost

outside the door
the cold wind
blows more
quite a roar

inside the door
gardening, art,
and literature
books galore
litter the floor

close the damn door
keep cold air out
keep warm air in
it's simple, amen

mpgEoW2 455, February 2002

Table of Contents

Cuttings: Month by Month

February in Red Bluff

2+2=4: Now and Forever More

A lady was studying her Bible
in a Cayucos cafe one foggy day.
We somehow struck up a conversation,
and she tried to show me The Way.
She believed every Bible Word she read,
and she said,
"If the Bible said, 2+2=5;
I would believe that until I die."

I smiled; hid my contempt.
Then paid my cafe bill, and
counted out a four dollar tip.
Headed out on the very long
Cayucos Pier to fish.
A fine cool fisherman's day ...
Luckily, I caught four fish

With some guarded doubts and disbelief,
I don't believe in all that I or others think;
Fictions and fantasies for fun are fine,
But I prefer a factual ordinary useful mind.

mpgEoW2 450, January 2025

Table of Contents

Memories of Pacific Coast Places

Men and Machines are Working Again

We are working on this day,
confident that the future is ours;
Machines are non-stop— No Delays!

Engaged fully with the tasks at hand,
determined efforts for hours and hours,
We are working, on this day.

Proud to be a Union working man
helping my family with all my powers;
Machines are non-stop— No Delays!

Doing our jobs, “Yes We Can!”
Whistles blast from steel towers
We are working on this day.

It’s not very hard to understand
how money is made hour by hour;
Machines are non-stop— No Delays!

Workers in factories all across the land
are ready to earn overtime hours:
We are working on this day;
Machines are non-stop— No Delays!

mpgEoW2 445, January 2025

Table of Contents

Villanelles

March in Red Bluff

Chanting Canyon Streams

Opening bell
echoes from the canyon walls—
   raindrops on the river

The sounds of rocks bouncing off rocks
the shadows of trees traced on trees

      I sit, still...

The canyon river chants,
Moving Mountains

The sermon spun on the still point:
dropping off eternity, picking up time;
letting go of self, awakened to Mind.

The shadows of trees traced on trees
moving to and fro effortlessly.

The sounds of rocks bouncing off rocks.
Karen and I once saw a man
         Killed
by a large falling rock.

mpgEoW2 440, June 2002

Table of Contents

Uncommon Considerations

Zen Buddhist Research

Uncle Mike's Cellphone Poetry Series 1-8

Electric Fatalities

What you see might never be,
Changed for the better by factories.
What you hear might bring you fear,
Of nuclear power plants coming here.

San Onofre, Humboldt Bay, Chehalis all Closed,
Nuclear waste locked in hot concrete commodes.
Diablo Canyon headed for the same fate,
San Luis Obispo, Avila, spared somewhat late.

We can't deny Fukushima's tsunami demise,
Our West Coast shares that Ring of Fire Alive.
We shudder and shake in earthquakes strong.
Yes, it can suddenly become horribly wrong.

Where will the millions of people go?
When Florida's Turkey Point melts-down
    in a disastarous Hurricane blow.

mpgEoW2 435, November 2024

Table of Contents

At the Edges of the West, Volume 1

April in Red Bluff

Yellow Patty-Pans in the Pure Sunshine

Hardly thinking, mind still.
Strolling out into the garden
Awakening in the dawn glow.
Summer sun rising over the cloudless Cascades.
Morning sun undarkening the Yolly Bollys.
Deep green fat squash leaves,
Worry free, covering the damp clay soil.

Later, at noon, in sunshine bright
My hands search the straw mulch for
Spaghetti squash, patty pans, crook-necks,
   zucchini, pumpkins, cantaloupes,
    cucumbers, gourds.
All fattening on water, sun, and soil.

I touch the vines and smile,
    grasping colored fruits and beans.
Worry free, pleased just to be
Me, the sum of things, I am That—

A billion bees sucking a trillion flowers,
In the Valley Spirit of a million summers.
San Joaquin and Sacramento Valley Time.
Living and dead, endless vines of beings,
Past and Present merge Now—

As I fill to the brim with twining thoughts,
Fattening on ideas, memories,
fantasies, images, reflections,
A pumpkin mind, full of word seeds,
A growing Matrix of Words we see.

As it should be.

mpgEoW2 430, August 2008

Table of Contents

The Spirit of Gardening
Over 3,600 quotations for gardeners
    and lovers of the Green Way.

Walnut Trees on a Winter Day

Along 99W one January day,
men were cutting down
an old walnut grove; and
this led me to say:

The Mind is a vast Bodhi Grove,
The body a Bodhi tree.
Dirt is in every cranny,
Flowers blossom, leaves bud,
nuts drop, leaves fall.

The Bodhi Trees were
cut down,
The Bright Mirror shattered.

Beginning with nothing,
Replant the trees,
remake the mirror—

Make one's mind like a mirror,
One's body like the Giving Tree.
Reflect accurately
and impartially;
Give nuts and shade.

mpgEoW2 425, April 2005

Table of Contents

Cuttings: Month by Month

Studies in Buddhism

Skeletons in Love

Live long enough,
and the losses pile up,
Till you're tossed away
like an old cracked cup,
All stained and worm,
dulled by time,
Useless, leaking,
not worth a dime.
Then, you die, sometime.

Egoless, your flesh falls away,
You, a skeleton becomes;
Lost in Nirvana,
lights out,
all done.

Nine months later
to your utter surprise,
you awaken in bed,
Changed, very much alive.
Not as Kafka's
Ungeheueres Ungeziefer,
or as Casper the Ghost
all covered in fur;
Not as a Memaloose on the Run,
but as a horny Stud Skeleton.

Then, the Skeleton Woman
drinks your dry tears,
Drums your still heart,
and sings away fears,
Slips under the quilts
and gives Love a Whirl;
Spinning, twirling,
your reborn as a Girl.

Forget yourself,
crack the cup on the floor,
Speak in a new voice,
the past is no more.

mpgEoW2 420, June 2007

Table of Contents

25 Steps and Beyond: Collected Works

Neo-Pagan, Daoist, Druid Lore

The Illusions of Seven O'Clock

TV is Deceiving—
On episodes of comedy sitcoms
(But few are funny,
phony fake laugh tracks wrong),
Or on:
news on political themes,
ads on buying things,
shows on alien beings,
shows on relics of the dead,
wagering on sports teams,
laughing on Que cards,
faked survival-naked tests,
failed Yeti searches,
foodies eating rare animals,
beer is OK, smoking is Not,
televangelists preaching success,
commercials-commericals All day,
ads for cars on roads all alone—

These are hardly strange
with colors, audio, graphics,
drone photography, and more.
And narrators so melodious.
People are going to Dream
of fake heroes and heroines
and promised products,
no matter how odious.

Somewhere, a tired old man,
asleep in his shorts,
Dreams of tortillas and tomatillos,
Eating in cafes in foggy ports,
Catching flies with chopsticks,
Reading Wallace Stevens' Quartz.

mpgEoW2 415, February 2022

Table of Contents

The Sonnets Flowed by Gushen Grove

saghili pee keekwillie chuck:
the tide comes in, the tide goes out

skookum tum tum klaghanie:
stroll bravely out

Yes, I've heard the Memaloose Ghosts
in the Sitkas and Firs all talking,
and I've also left quickly in fear fast walking.
They mumbled in the marshes and bays,
and along the shoreline before the day.

I've dreampt of skulls and skeletons,
graveyards of broken canoes,
Islands of the Dead,
creepy Clatsop Chinook stories in my head.

In the Nehalem rain,
with a deep dark dripping forest all around,
a Memaloose Ghost whispered to me
in these hallowed grounds:

"Saghili pee keekwillie chuck;
elip lekleh yes ahha,
Iktah Mitlite Konaway
Wake Sia Kopa.
Mika chuck chako
pee klatawa, oleman;
Alta elip klose ahha
tenas hehe pee hyas wawa
pee klata kopa lapea
skookum tum tum
klaghanie ahha."

Graciously, Roshi Raven,
translated the Chinook Jargon for me:

"The tide comes in, the tide goes out;
that's essential, Yes,
to What It's All About.
Your tide flows out, old man;
So it's now best to smile and shout, Yes,
and stroll bravely out."

mpgEoW2 410, July 2002

Table of Contents

Four Days at Grayland Beach
Coastal Yurt Camping
Oregon and Washington

At the Edges of the West, Volume 1

"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
- Dylan Thomas, 1947

Seeing Both as One

Crape myrtle, brilliant red,
    bursting forth;
Hiding the garden.
Some days, only the Garden,
    entire, serene;
Yet, hiding from sight,
    shy, single plants.
Seeing Both, seldom,
but as One:
Sweat poured from my
    startled brow,
Dripping on the dry earth,
And all became Sunshine
And shadows of surprise
    unraveling

mpgEoW2 405, October 2004

Table of Contents

The Spirit of Gardening
Over 3,600 quotations for gardeners
    and lovers of the Green Way.

May in Red Bluff

Uncle Mike Took Me to See Bruce Lee

My Uncle Mike,
in 1974,
helped me
to tie my shoe laces,
took me
to see Bruce Lee in
Enter the Dragon
at Grauman's Chinese.
Walked me around
the campus at USC,
drove me
on trips to the sea.
Treated me
with tasty new foods,
and played fun games
with me.

Many decades later,
now old and gray,
my Uncle Mike came
to the City of Spokane,
to my daughter's wedding day.

Bridal party in suits and gowns.
Ceremonial words said and sworn.
Lovely ladies & handsome gents
gathered in friendshaip and respect.

We all enjoyed drinks and buffet.
He danced with my wife, Helen;
laughed with his wife, Aunt Karen.
Uncle Mike and Aunt Karen thanked
me for sharing our lives and as host.
Presents opened, smiles all around.
My brother, Jim, joked and clowned.
We all celebrated a Wedding of Love
on a beautiful clear warm WA day.

Amiable Uncle Mike
chuckled at bawdy lyrics,
explored the Victorian house,
smoked a MaryJ,
and smiled all day.

mpgEoW2 405, October 2023

Table of Contents

25 Steps and Beyond: Collected Works

Uncle Mike's Cellphone Poetry Series

A Quacking Cacophony

Coming home
long necked geese—
Canadian-Americans

A warm rest for
coots, geese, and ducks—
wet rice fields

The white geese
ascend from the far fields
fleeing popping shotguns

The honking geese—
a quacking cacophony
flapping overhead

Flocks of white
geese in the light gray fog—
this way and that way

mpgEoW2 395, October 2006

Table of Contents

The Spirit of Gardening
Over 3,600 quotations for gardeners
    and lovers of the Green Way.

Winter in Red Bluff

my lips turned to stones

I first met Master Chang San-Feng
on a trail, above the forest,
near a little spring, in 2003,
when gathering clouds darkened the day,
and Mt. Shasta was silent.

His long beard was black as emptiness,
ear lobes to his shoulders,
holding obsidian in his hand,
pointing to the sun,
eyes staring into infinity,
his long body clothed in silence.

We exchanged "hellos"
smiled and bowed,
a barbarian and an Immortal,
both panting from the climb,
laughing,
ten-thousand echoes
between our rocky minds.

After billions upon billions of heartbeats past
(for he must have been 888 years old),
I was so bold
as to ask the ancient one
for the sacred mantra of yore.

He lifted his whisk,
and brushed my face.
I could not speak,
my lips turned to stones.
Ideas stopped!
I was alone—

mpgEoW2 390, October 2010

Table of Contents

Taoism: Lore, Practices, Poetry

Tao Te Ching: Anthology and Concordance

Meetings with Master Chang-San Feng

The Salmon Are Back

From north to south, and south to north,
Up and down, all year round,
    moving around
    to and from
    for food, for mates, for warmth and sun:
the swallows at Capistrano,
the butterflies at Monterey,
the geese from Canada,
the whales from Vancouver Island,
the salmon from the North seas.
Traveler's all
    on the West Coast
    flyways and seaways;
    like clockwork on calendars,
    predictable, expected
        treasured—

mpgEoW2 385, August 2009

Table of Contents

The Spirit of Gardening
Over 3,600 quotations for gardeners
    and lovers of the Green Way.

Valentine's Day

Sipping steaming coffee—
their eyes playing
    possibilities ...

His tight jeans,
Showing!!
Her silky blouse,
Revealing!!

creamy white pear blossoms
wave in the winds
through Chico on 99E
in the cool of February.

He hands her an art card.
She reads, smiles, nods,
warming to his charms;
the woman    touches his hand
he is calmed
Gestures of trust.

Windswept away—
    Valentine's Day
    cards dropped

His snug jeans
and tight red sweater
turns her head—
"nice buns."

Rogers and Hart long gone
Yet their song's resung
Reviving them in time—
A Funny Valentine.


A month later,
on St. Patrick’s Day,
the lovers met again
this way:

"Dirty old man"
    says she, with a wry frown;
slipping her panties down.

our lips smack
     separating
our fantasies

scent of her flowers
     woozy
kissing her knee

ruckus on
damp sheets all askew—
     panting face to face

trembling together
     we explode!!
groaning ....

mpgEoW2 380, April 2003

Table of Contents

25 Steps and Beyond: Collected Works

June in Red Bluff

Blooming Onions Pulled from the Mind-Ground
One-Liners Waiting in Line

Bermuda, Walla Walla, Spanish, Southport—
Onions All!

Pick 'em, Pull 'em, Cook 'em, Eat 'em.
Think about Th'em
    and their garden bed homes,
    and the gardener working there all alone,
    brimming with ideas for here to show:

Mother Nature is always pregnant.
The Uhr Spell is "Abundant Fertility."

Roundness is the Holy Shape.
A shovelful of soil can inspire an epiphany.
The empty garden is already full.
Our actions always emerge
    in the reality of the future.

A callused palm and dirty fingernails
    precede a Green Thumb.
Gardens are demanding pets.
The end of the garden is at the end of the hose.
Sitting in a garden and doing nothing
    is high art everywhere.
Creativity in gardening is often
    spurred on by destructive impulses.

Failures, disorder and death are
    the Grim Reaper of Entropy at work.
Somehow, someway, everything
    gets eaten up, someday.
Death's door is always unlocked.
When Death grins at you, grin back;
     when death beckons you, run away.
No garden lasts for long—neither will you.

Dogmatists are less useful than dogs.
That something is eternal is seems unverifiable.
Create your own garden, the god's certainly won't.
When the Divine knocks,
    don't send a prophet to the door.
It is better to cultivate spiritual fruits
    than religious nuts.
The Boundless is like wind over the ocean,
    the boundary like a knife.
Does the City of God
    meet current building codes?
Different places, different advice.

There is not much to say about the "Unknown."
A working hypothesis is
    far better than a belief.
Many people are better at believing than seeing.
The real "miracle" is cause and effect.
The "eternal truths" are sometimes clearly false.

As you move your hands so you move your mind.
Watering is the practice of gentleness.
Harvesting is the practice of living.

Wishes are like seeds,
    few ever develop into something.

What you see depends on when you look.
Beauty is the Fetish Mistress,
    the gardener her devoted slave.
What do you need or want to see?
What is it that you lust to smell?
Some pleasures lick, chew, savor and swallow us.

Time creeps, walks, runs and flies
    it is all about moving things.
Time is something everyone runs
    short on and finally runs out of.
Chaos breaks its own Rules
    to allow Order to play.
Despite the gardener's best intentions,
    Nature will improvise.

Just the right words can be worth
    more than a thousand pictures.
The meaning is lost in the saying,
    a nature mystic's dilemma.

One's "true self" is changing and elusive.
Wear a variety of masks;
    acting is essential to coping.
It is more about You and Now,
    rather than Them and Back Then.
Your garden is a portrait of yourself.

The best things in life are
    more expensive than you think.
Having fun may be habit forming.
Take life with a grain of salt
     and a icy margarita.

The most important Master is Self-Mastery.
There is no 'i' in "team,"
    but there is an 'm' in me, my, and mine.
A wise gardener knows when to stop.

Rather than "love mankind,"
    I'd rather admire a few good people.
Some flourish when crowded together,
    others don't.
A flower needs roots;
    beauty a society of minds.

Absolutes squirm beneath realities.
Complexity is closer to the Truth.
"Mas o menos" is often quite sufficient.

When life gives you onions,
    you ain't making lemonade.

It's over when it ends.

mpgEoW2 375, May 2010

Table of Contents

Pulling Onions
Over 1,000 one-line quips, considerations,
ruminations, suggestions, and observations.

July in Red Bluff

A Fork in the Crypto Road

We stopped for coffee in Forks WA one day
on the way to Crescent Lake’s forest shade.
The barista smiled, polite, earned a tip.
We sipped and talked about Rips in Time,
splittings, divergences, separations between
Crypto-beings versus real creatures we can find.

Cryptozoology, not bitcom crypto schemes, but
plenty of amazing pseudo-science scuttlebutt.
Yes, Cryptids living by the Quillayute River
or by its incoming Bogachiel or Sol Duc streams.
Or, four Chupacabras in La Push.
Or, Big Foot and Little Foot
      crossing Hwy 101 at dusk.

Forks pretends to host Vampires,
teenage blood suckers on the night prowl,
teenage Werewolves howling, running fast,
Humans afraid of these creatures’ wrath.

Human, not so human, called by the Night,
confused, resisting, teenagers losing the fight
against inner demons and lusty needs
and ordinary life with real human beings.

Many beings eat, fight and kill to survive,
wily, tricky, stealthy, with a hunter’s pride.
The Horned God has history on his side.
Hunger keeps us all on the Edge,
ready to amorally pounce from a hedge
and slaughter or harvest creatures just ahead.
We are all Vampires
rising from the dead. Its said,
Living and dying scenes
are sometimes seen in vivid Red.

Books and movies started it all,
now all Fork’s stores sell
    Vampire and Werewolf dolls.
Motel rooms are decorated in Twilight themes.
Crypto-Reality, fantasies, fictions,
    magical scenes.

Drawing thousands of titillated tourists here.
Happy Forkers counting more dollars there.

Its said that
Big Foot roams the nearby lush Hoh woods
seeking a lean Sasquatch Lady with big boobs.
She temporarily hides her alluring charms
    from clumsy Big Foot’s fingers and arms,
Carrying a Sasquatch-Yeti baby in her arms.

Why do we often picture and portray
Big Foot as a lonely male, a hairy ugly guy,
a grumpy solitary fellow,
without a female, family, friend,
or clan at his side.

And, then we have Paul Bunyan, The Logger Man,
a machine of a man, with Babe, his Blue Ox,
dragging logs from the land; plundering
forests till their gone, then moving on.
Nowadays, from Quinault firs
to Humboldt coastal mountain pines,
diesel logging trucks packed full are the rule.
There's a huge statue of Paul the Lumberjack
his axe and Ox, in Requa-Klamath CA,
at the Trees of Mystery,
along Highway 101 to this very day.

mpgEoW2 370, February 2024

Table of Contents

Highway 101 and Hwy 1
Memories of Pacific Coast Places
Forks, Olympic Peninsula, Washington

The Sonnets Flowed by Gushen Grove

Prime Your Mind with Some Guiding Rhymes

Find some beauty, it’s your duty.
Try your best to avoid excess.
A smile walks a long mile.
Stand tall and embrace all.
Handle tools with respectful rules. 
Get your ass moving or you’ll be losing.
Take the halo off your heroes. 
Consider others as your brothers.
Your purpose in life should guide you right.
Walk your talk.
Be at ease often, please.
Just sit and you will become unfit. 
Smoker’s breath—coughing death. 
Booze your body, bamboozle your mind.
Goodness has a portion of badness.
The seasons give us many reasons.
Insight is often hindsight.
Just one word can unravel what we heard.
We cannot resist believing fictions exist.
We relish and repeat, we link with what we like.
Rigidity is stupidity.
Jumping to conclusions—pleasing your illusions.
Slow down before you hit the ground.
Hate locks Love’s Gate. 
Norms are not Eternal Forms.
Ambiguity decreases perspicuity. 
Unbelieving is a source of relieving or grieving. 
Right brain, left brain: tracks below our Living Trains.
You can’t hide from the Big Surprise. 
Rather than cut and dried, favor the whole alive. 
Make history in some new way each day. 
Keep track so as to stay on track. 
Thinking unifies, experience diversifies.
Keep ready with light feet.
Wiping the mind’s mirror will not make seeing clearer.
Beings are Becomings—for the time-being. 
Changing yourself causes others to change.

mpgEoW2 365, May 2019

Table of Contents

How to Live a Good Life
Advice from Wise and Respected Persons

Virtue Ethics and Modern Life

Meditations on Time, Mind, Three and Me

Indeed,
We do deal with daily dualities
while living night and day
seeking pleasures avoiding pain
the Dao and Us evolving today.

Then,
there are the Threesome Realms.
One Big Three,
in particular,
truly fascinates me:
Past, Present, Future ...

Shifting, standing, let's go ...

"He who holds that nothingness
Is formless, flowers are visions,
Let him enter boldly!"
- Gido (1325-1388)
Japanese Zen Master

Recreate the Past

I saw Master Chang San-Feng
Enter the Sidhe, Fairies by his side,
Crossing over the teahouse pond at dawn.
Astonished I was!

On the teahouse table by the pond,
I later found
Some of his neatly printed notes
Folded in a well-worn translation
Of the Tao Te Ching, in Chapter 14.

He had written:
”Even for an Immortal, the Past is the Key.

The Future
Grasp at it, but you can’t get it,
Colorless as an invisible crystal web,
Unformed, thin, a conundrum of ideas,
The Grand White Cloud
   Temple of Possibilities,
Flimsy as a maybe, strong as our hopes,
Silent as eternal Space.

When you meet it,
   you can’t see its face.
You want to stand for it,
   but cannot find a place.

The Present,
It appears and disappears
   through the moving
   ten thousand things,
Quick as a wink,
   elusive as a hummingbird,
Always Now with no other choice,
Moving ground, unstable Plates,

Real as much as Real gets to Be,
This Day has finally come,
Room for something, for the moment, waits
Gone in a flash, assigned a date,
Gulp, swallowed by the future.
Unceasing, continuous, entering and leaving
The vast empty center of the Elixir Field.


The Past,
Becoming obscurer, fading, falling apart,
A mess of memories in the matrix of brains;
Some of it written, fixed in ink,
   chiseled in stone,
Most of it long lost in graves
   of pure hard gray bones.
Following it you cannot see its back,
Only forms of the formless, stories, tales,
Images of imageless, fictions, myths.
A smattering of forever fixed facts,
Scattered about the homes
   of fading ghosts.
The twists and turns of millions of tongues
Leaving us languages,
   our passports to the past.

The Past,
The future becomes past,
the present becomes past,
even the past becomes past.
Everything lives,
subtracting but seconds for Nowness,
in the Past.
The Realms of the Gods, the kingdoms of men,
The Evolutionary Tree with roots
   a million years long
Intertwined with turtles, dragons,
   trees, stars, grasses and toads;
   crickets, coyotes, cougars, a fly
   ravens, bears, clams, and men.

These profoundest Three of Time
An unraveled red Knot of Mystery,
Evading scrutiny in the darkness of days
Eluding capture in the brightness of nights,
In beginnings and endings are
   only One, the Tao.
Coming from Nowhere, Returning to Nothing.

What dimension of Time
Does your mind dwell within?
   Future, Present or Past?
Where is your Temporal Homeland?

The Past holds the accomplishments,
the created, the glories, the Great.
The Present is but a thin coat of ice
   on the Pond of Fate.
The Future is an illusion,
   a guess,
   a plethora of possible states.

Recreate the Past
by playing within the Present.
Twisting and reeling one’s silky reality
From the Black Cocoons of the Acts
From which we create our Pasts.

Follow the Ancient Ways.
The Past is the Key.”

mpgEoW2 355, February 2009

Table of Contents

Taoism: Lore, Practices, Poetry

Tao Te Ching: Anthology and Concordance

Meetings with Master Chang-San Feng

A Time of Dangling Dualistic Dichotomies

Hovering in the Present Time,
in the Present Place,
Caught between the Real and the Imagined,
Cut off from the Past and Future,
Dangling in the Present!
 
Splitting up the Firewood of Dichotomies:
 
Objective/subjective, Things/ideas
    Phenomena/noumena, Real/imagined
Factual/fanciful, Actual/possible
    Multiplicity/singularity, Balanced/unstable
Non-Fiction/fiction, Scientific/literary
    Interesting/dull, Creative/repetitive


Plenty of mind-kindling
for the amateur philosopher’s fireplace.
These ideas fired up my thinking
for many decades.
Dualistic thinking is great kindling
for temporary flickers of insights.
Dualistic thinking is fun and pleasurable,
    naysayers ignored.
Dualistic thinking helped me
    solve some real life problems.
Dualistic thinking kept me
    employed from 1962-2017.
Dualistic thinking helped me
    choose between
    a bowl of rice, and
a painting of a bowl of rice.
Dualistic thinking is at the Core of Science,
true-false logic, precise mathematics,
and applied technologies everywhere.

Dualistic thinking pointed sometimes
    to the essence of Time.
Dualistic thinking wrestled
    with the puzzles of Time.

But,
Thinking in Two's, inappropriate tools,
flies in a bottle, poets stuck on words,
muddles up our meditations by Two's.
No wonder that we get very confused.

Time/timeless, Timing, Day/night,
Past/Present, Present/Future,
Past-Present-Future in Threes.
Now—
Yes, a bit muddled alright;
Time is confusing on first
    and second and third sights.
Many philosophers over centuries
    have seriosly pondered
    the Riddles of Time
    for too long a time.
Why?
Because we want answers
to our obsessive questions
that keep us awake
seeking answers
regarding our fate.


The Arrows of Time
    never rest,
moving forward unrelenting
    irreversible
from hot towards cold
from organized to disorganized
from past to future
from moving towards stillness
from life towards death.
Or,
so it seems,
    to us,
    with our little particulars,
    with our home brew views,
    with our social habits a must.

The Spiderwebs of Time
    are legion
multitudes of nows and thens;
Uncountable heres and theres
    unhitched
from any eternal present
everywhere.

To dance at the still point
Of the Time beyond time,
Beyond pasts, within futures,
this Moment
Now and forever, beyond
ordinary minds.

Not searching, not seeking,
but settling
occasionally
for a here and there
on and off
non-dualistic mind.

mpgEoW2 350, June 2021

Table of Contents

25 Steps and Beyond: Collected Works

The Sonnets Flowing by Gushen Grove

Flowers in the Sky

   In a flaming burst,
they kiss the earth,
shout to the sky:
"White! Pink! Yellow!"
Orchards of plums and peaches,  
Acres of mustard-greens.

From the Ten Directions:
Spring brings on flowers,
Flowers bring on Spring.
Coming, here, gone:
Flowers in the Sky.

In the blink of one false eye,
In the blink of One True Eye,
Flowers in the empty sky;
Shimmering, scented ... gone,
Gone, gone, gone far beyond
Their seeds of arising.
But, staying, Here-Now,
A Great Marvel of Manifestation.
Bodhisvattas - for the bees.

Soil, sun, rain, sky ...
Four Elements embracing,
Intertwined in mind.
Unfathomable Matrix;
Scaffolds on scaffolds
Grounded in Otherness.
Below seeds, flowers, leaves,
stems, roots ...
  
Below wet cells embraced,
Below atoms dancing on Energy...
Deeper and deeper below into
What?  A Plenitude, a sacredness.
Emptiness in full bloom.

Above seeds, flowers, leaves,
stems, roots, fruits—
Above water, soil, roots, branches,
Above sensing, feeling, working, thinking ...
Higher and higher out towards
What?  
"Vast emptiness, nothing holy."        
Flowers in the sky.

Leaping from the Ledge of Infinite Regress,
The Unmoved Mover fell into Formlessness:
Pure silence echoed between the galaxies,
Eons of eons vanished in a second,
Withered trees bloomed in fires,
Polar mountains melted, rivers went dry,
Thusness scattered in sixty directions,
Space became Time, time became things.

Black Holes filled with Nirvana,
A billion samadhi mirrors shattered,
Galaxies snuggled within a single skull,
Many became One, One only, only One.

Then,
the Divine Illuminatrix in All Beings
Opened Her clouded Eye, to see:
Flowers in the Sky.

He sat for weeks under the Bodhi Tree
Before the morning sun Opened his Eyes;
Lotus blossoms fell from the sky.
She walked through the Gateless Gate,
Upright, staff in hand;
Plum blossoms opened across the land.

Gnawing on his koan bone,
Suddenly, the taste of insight—
Blue flowers amidst the gravesites.
She sat and sat,
Till yea was nay, and nay was yea;
While roses bloomed on day by day.

Illusions, delusions, foolishness:
Those flowers falling from the sky.
Only the Mind's Eyes
Wishing for otherwise;
As always, embracing fertile lies.
Spinning fictions over facts;
Mythmaking, playful, eager to act,
Seeing what we want to see,
Seeking, yeasaying, seeding, giving it a try.
Having faith in Flowers in the Sky.

These yellow poppies are time,
These green fruits from white flowers are time,
These brown seeds from orange fruits are time,
These gray leafless trees are time.               
And the five fingers of one black hand are time,
And the blinking of two blue eyes are time.
The dirty garden hoe and hoses are time,
And greasy tractor gears are time.

The snows on Mt. Shasta melt time,
Moving Mojave sand dunes cover time,
Cold ocean waves at Gold Bluffs cut time,
The onion seedlings in Salinas sweeten time,
The roaring Feather River rapids erode time;
Ventura flower fields color time.

Remembering is time, forgetting is time.
Black lines of scripture are time,
Great and small doubts are time,
Hungry ghosts and naked demons are time,
Newborn Gods are time.
Death is time, and conception is time.
             
Vulgar time, broken time,
Our time, space-time, in time,
The Right time, before time, Sublime time,
Standard time, beyond time, past time.

Time and time again,
Explaining All and not explaining any-thing.
From Being-Lost, with no abode, selfless, bone dry;
Comes the time-Now for the enlightened cry:
"Flowers in the Sky!"

Imagine what the Will can Do,
Cannot do, will not do.
Imagine more.
Please,
remove the offered flowers
from the great stone Buddha's hands,
before he's blown up at Bamiyan;
and the dust and stones flying high,
Hide the flowers in the sky.

The Buddha raised one flower
Sharing a silent sign;
Maha-Kasyapa smiled,
Keeping an open mind.
Truly eye to eye, free and kind,
Outside any scriptures, beyond the lies;
Fresh flowers in a sunny sky.
Flowers blooming in the sky.

To dance at the still point
   of the Time beyond time,
Beyond pasts, within futures,
   This Moment
Now and forever, beyond minds.  
Not knowing Who or Why,
We stroll in rose gardens, and Love.
   Precious flowers in the sky.
                                                                                                                
Speechless, Dogen stared,
   Shivering in a turning white world
Raising cold dawn moons.
Bright white millions on millions
Of drifting flowery flakes
   Fell fast from the Echizen sky.

Ice pure, elemental, quintessential
Wet, imperfect, flowing time
Packed by the hour, deeper
Deeper down to Winter's core.

The Temple of Eternal Peace creaked,
Snowflakes gathered on Dogen's robe,
One icy crystal streaked the True Eye
Glimpsing into Itself;

Another transmission:
Lovely flowers in the Sky.

mpgEoW2 345, July 2005

Table of Contents

Emptiness in Full Bloom: Flowers in the Sky

Above the Fog

Nature Mysticism

On Not Resisting Temptations

Test, try, experiment - within reason.
Manage your pleasures and desires.
Be open to thinking and feeling in new ways.
Sometimes ignore what other people
   tell you to do or not to do.
Old values are not necessarily better values.
What is "bad" in one generation
   may be "good" in later times.
Enjoy the pleasure of eating apples.
Not resisting temptations can
   be a very good thing.
When someone tells you not to ask,
   sometimes ask and ask again.
With only one life to live - be bolder.
Don't resist the temptation
   to improve, to change, to grow.
Like water, enjoy going downhill
   in new directions.
Embrace intellectual pleasures.
Be suspicious of people who talk too much
   about guilt and punishment.
Some failures are inevitable,
   just get up and move on.
Thinking and doing are often
   more advantageous than believing.
Many people associate sexual pleasure
   with 'sinfulness': nonsense.
Succumb to temptations to laugh more often.
If you can't take advantage of temptations
   then you are not free.
Always Remember What Works for You!

mpgEoW2 335, October 2011

Table of Contents

25 Steps and Beyond: Collected Works

August in Red Bluff

Ugh!

A picture is worth 100 words.
One Hundred Good Words
can sometime convey
more information than
a picture can display.

I could go on in words
about all
the faults and failures
that ruin this world;
but today I won't.
It's just too sad.

Anyway,
You already Know.
You can already see:

mpgEoW2 340, October 2011

Table of Contents

The Wreck Ahead Comes Into View

The Scissors of My Decisions

The scissors of my decisions,
cutting the patterns of my life;
shaping my persona and destiny,
and a bit of everything around me.
And, a thousand Others,
from near and far,
shaping our lives, forming our fates,
all ruled by soil, sea, sky, water, and food,
and the One Sun-Star above our noon face.

mpgEoW2 330, October 2024

Table of Contents

September in Red Bluff

A Gift of Dried Garlic Flowers

We dug up and turned over the soil.
We added cow manure and mixed well.
We flattened the ground and raked it up.
We sat down: rested, reflected, enough.

We opened packets of garden seeds.
Seeds for herbs and heirloom chives.
Bags of onion sets and garlic cloves.
These starters met all our needs.

For the many Springs of Future Years,
when the Allium stalks stand high
and bloom; we will remember (Yea!)
our First Garden in Red Bluff CA!
We achieved that today.

Later—
on the table, a gift for hours,
dried white garlic flowers.

mpgEoW2 295, October 1998

Table of Contents

Pulling Onions

Depending on Everything

Ignore your Self, become impersonal;
feel yourself now, as everything turns.

Wrap your arms around your body
Plant your feet into the ground
Touch a tree with your fingers
Breathe out an Om or Aaah sound.
Embrace the Flesh, the blood, the bones,
hold the handy hands that make a man.

As nothings passing nothings
along the long road
on an uphill climb
to Enlightenment Pass;
we laughed and laughed.

[Transient Empty Void Rivers of Egos:
Nothings Passing Nothings;
Laughter lost in the labyrinths of Entropies.]

Feel your Self as everything,
in everything, through everything,
bounded by everything,
emerging from everything else.

My Self digests Everything for Me!
The beauty, strength, energy,
bounty, and marvels of Our Bodies
carry Life on, day after day.
We’re Dependents in that way.

Depending on Everything;
Including my Body, and
my Substance-Less
void-empty soul-mind.

mpgEoW2 325, October 2010

Table of Contents

Zen Buddhism

October in Red Bluff

Stepping Over Epiphanies

Affecting all the molecules in me
the pull of the moon and sea
feeling the call to walk the shore
Smiled, opened the door

Tides and time sent signals to me
to step nimbly over epiphanies
seen flipped over in the turning sands
Surprised, opened my hands

Waiting for nobody but me
a fleck of cold fire
flung out on this fleck of space
Sang out, loved this place

Shore pines paint a background scene
short stubby crooked trees
swaying gently in the salty breeze
Unruffled, I found tranquility

Stunned by the crisp clean colors
savoring the scents of the sea
enchanted by the incessant singing surf
Awakened, calming reveries

Pointing to the ineffable realization of
insights known to me alone
erupted up from our sensory realities
Profound, not foreknown

Such awakenings come and go
sometimes fast or sometimes slow
unpredictable visions playing peekaboo
Pausing, not thinking too

Slogging up and down the dunes
breathing hard on que
one step up, a half-step back
Stopping, quite a view

A romantic couple passes me
by on the thin path through sea grass;
we nod, mumble "hello", step aside
Thinking, will love last

What I see is painted by me
created for free in a brain for me
sucked from the tits of reality
Pondering, real or illusory

I practiced outside today
the Practice of the Outside Way
I figured a few things out
Understanding, what Place's say

Tip toeing over bull kelp strands
stepping on broken shells
avoiding the driftwood piles ever moving
Listening, a virtual foghorn knells

A friendly dog off-leash comes to me
seeking a gentle pat and pet
desiring a kind human face to see
Laughing, she was wet

My grand daughter and I once walked
beside an Oregon dune
not very long ago it seemed to us
Remembering, gone too soon

mpgEoW2 320, October 2010

Table of Contents

25 Steps and Beyond: The Collected Works

November in Red Bluff

Killer Smoke— Choke!

Black skies filled with Wildfire smoke
From a Racing Tsunami of Fire and ash;
Putrid Smog, Killer Smoke— Choke!

Firetrucks loaded and ready to go
firefighters getting some hard-earned cash,
Black skies filled with Wildfire smoke.

Flaming chaparral and trees all aglow
houses burned to cinders in a flash;
Putrid Smog, Killer Smoke— Choke!

Just cut the trees down, heave-ho.
Obey King Trump or FEMA funds slashed.
Black skies filled with Wildfire smoke.

People, pets, and animals all died below
the roaring scorching blaze blast so fast;
Putrid Smog, Killer Smoke— Choke!

Fires in the hills and mountains we know
are the West Coast’s nemesis at last:
Black skies filled with Wildfire smoke
Putrid Smog, Killer Smoke— Choke!

A Requiem for Tragedies

West Coast Firestorm Disasters:
Astoria WA in 1922..
Pacific Palisades in 2025..
San Francisco in 1906..
Bandon in 1936..
Seattle in 1889..
San Diego County in 2003..
Tillamook Forest in 1933..

mpgEoW2 315, January 2025

Table of Contents

Cloud Hands Blog Poetry

December in Red Bluff

Crash, Smashed!

In a Bakersfield tule fog we huddled indoors
waiting
for Hwy 99 to clear for travel.
Hopefully, we could safely go on to Fresno;
after that blinding opaque fog unraveled.

I had listened to tales from my nephew, a cop,
    and read about
999 fatal accidents on Hwy 99, and scores more
in the Ag-Cities of the San Joaquin Valley
    over many decades past.

In 1974 it became personal!
We were notified:
that my Grandmother Blaize, age 76,
    had been run over and Killed
by a drunk driver on a Fresno night.
Her crushed bloody body found under a car
    outside of a Church dance hall.

At Grandma’s closed casket funeral in Fresno,
the family all quiet, mourning, sitting still—
We silently said our goodbyes.
Grandma Blaize on our minds till we die.

Whether it’s James Dean smashed in a crash,
or Mabel Blaize run over by a drunk,
car drivers and cars and fogs are killers.
We know the risks, face the facts, shudder.

mpgEoW2 310, December 2024

Table of Contents

The Sonnets Flowing by Gushen Grove

Villanelle Poems

At the Edges of the West, Volume 1

25 Steps and Beyond: Collected Works

More Images, Less Fluff!

In 2000 time, a former colleague of mine
mailed me an anthology of Imagist poetry.
In 1913 time, Pound and Addington chimed:
nouns not adjectives, directness like tea,

ample individuality, precise exact words,
don’t do this or that, focused on the facts,
down to earth, pointed, a tough sharp Axe,
real, modern, urban, fresh, clear words.

They did not favor Rhymes most of the time
coz it was buzz love fuzz above outdoes
their calls for hard direct expression above
the rattle and skip-step of sounds abuzz.

Advocates for the perfect photograph in words.
Snapshots, Directshots, captured blackbirds.

mpgEoW2 470, February 2025

Table of Contents

Above the Fog

The Sonnets Flowing by Gushen Grove

Spring in Red Bluff

A Little Ball of Great Doubt

One afternoon, Master Hakuin said "I once read
that Master Gaofeng Yuanmiao preached that
there are three requirements for the study of
Zen. The first is a great root of faith. The
second is a great ball of doubt. The third is a
great tenacity of purpose. A man who lacks
any of these is like a three-legged kettle with
one broken leg."

Layman Mujiang, replied to Hakuin saying,
"There are always more than three."

Hakuin, surprised, replied "What? More?"

Mujiang said, "How about being able to
sit still quietly for many hours?"

Hakuin said, "I doubt it."

Mujiang said, "Tenacity like typhoons,
purpose like an executioner; great, intense.
How should I be?”

Hakuin said, "The quiet river’s water
makes the best tea.”

Mujiang asked, "Some students have very
shallow roots but have very productive
branches and fruits.
May they proceed”?

Hakuin said, “Show me the flowers, seeds, and fruits.
Then, my little ball of doubts may soften like butter.”

Mujiang said, "How about reciting the sacred scriptures
or Names more? More chanting? More rites?"

Hakuin said, "I doubt it."

Mujian asked, "You will never give up the quest
for Buddhahood, will you Master Hakuin?"

Hakuin said, "I doubt it."

Mujian departed for the kitchen and thought:
"We can use that 2 legged kettle elsewhere."

mpgEoW2 300, March 2023

Table of Contents

Above the Fog

Fireplace Records: 47 Koans

Zen Buddhist Koans

The Pleasures of Masochistic Conundrums

the fact is that some philosophers enjoy
the rush of mental masochism,
the bondage to fashionable ideas,
the titillations of traditions,
the painful flagellation with
the keen, clear, sharp cutting words,
the bowing to Mistress Logic,
the humiliation of utter confusion,
the euphoria of the games,
the charms of the fantastic
theaters of thought alluring,
the submission to
the non-experiential concepts,
the fetishes of errors and illusions.

mpgEoW2 305, June 2021

Table of Contents

The Sonnets Flowed by Gushen Grove

Outside in a Cool Dream

I yanked off my shirt and toweled off the sweat,
Tossed off my shoes all smelly and wet,
Stretched out my back on the cool tile floor,
Freed from the smoky heat outside the door.

I slipped into dreaming about walking in fog
With my mother and brothers in sand we did slog,
Along the spit to Morro Rock one March day,
Relaxed, exhilarated, refreshed, and at play.

We sat on the dunes with the waves in our ears,
And sipped our sweet coffees all in good cheer.
Our toes in the sand, we laughed till we cried,
Then all sat in silence as the years drifted by.

I stirred, awakened, wondered where I could be;
Inside or Outside:
a cool dream, or a faded memory.

mpgEoW2 480, August 2014

Table of Contents

One Short of a Baker's Dozen

Highway 101 and Hwy 1

Things Stick Tight

Of things mechanical
I've little ken,
I fumble and fuss
from start to end.

Where a mechanic
pushes right
I pull left till
things stick-tight,

And bend things
I shouldn't bend,
till they ain't right.

I could blame my bumbling
On 40 years of overwork or bursitis
but such evasions are merely a clever
hiding of the truth that I never
Was a skilled toolman whatsoever.

mpgEoW2 460, January 2002

Table of Contents

25 Steps and Beyond: The Collected Works

January in Red Bluff

Will Cherished Ideals Survive

No Guarantees that to the End
Our cherished ideals will survive,
Our great great grandchildren will thrive,
Our monuments stand ...
             Our guarantees?

This tree my great great grandmother planted,
This dog-eared Leaves of Grass on my desk,
This classic folksong on my breath,
This heirloom apple in my hand ...

             This day,
             no guarantees
             for or against.
             Good!    So we strive on,
Their hopes in our hands.

mpgEoW2 490, August, 2014

Table of Contents

Summer in Red Bluff

Cuttings: Haiku

The Well Provides

Walking slowly on my rounds
checking on what needs watering
on this bright sunny day in Spring
I studied moisture in the ground.

Turning the spigot to fill the hose
the clear water squirted on the ground
from the well pump 130 feet down
where electricity does what it knows.

The peppers perked up, the squash shined,
the tomatoes got fuller, the melons plumped;
from gallons of deep well water pumped
up from gravels and clays laid over time.

I turned off the hose, felt the damp ground,
then sat in the warm shade by the back pond.

mpgEoW2 285, August 2014

Table of Contents

Details on Details, Zoom In

The endless treasures of the everyday,
the uncommonness of common things;
Ordinary mind does point the way
to unspoken wonders of myriad beings.

Whether a leaf, the moon, a plastic spoon,
or a shoe, an eye, an infant's cry;
the endless parade, zoom out, in zoom,
Details on details, thick, piled high.

Cellular seedpods pulsing pure time,
Flowering brains clone families of minds
that revel in thinking to the Infinite edge,
agog over life, and love of knowledge.

Whether, a quasar, a hand, a DNA strand,
Fantastic journeys in the Minds of Man.

mpgEoW2 485, September 2011

Table of Contents

Winter in Red Bluff

Blue Dragons from the Sea

Shifu Miao Zhang asked
Master Chang San-Feng,
"When you Meet the Green Dragon,
What will You Say? What will you do?

Chang San-Feng knew of one grey Carp
Who swam from Ocean to river
Who struggled upstream
Until he broke through
The daunting Dragon's Gate;
And became himself a Wise Blue Dragon.

Master Chang had flown with that
Wise Blue Dragon for many days
from Peking to Seattle
until they met a Rasta Thunderbird
who invited them to stay.

As a child Chang knew a few words
Of the Language of Dragons;
Spoken by Puff, the Magic Dragon,
who lived by the Sea
In the Lands of Honah Lee.

He knew of the Vast Ocean Dragon
Who's tides ruled fishermen's lives.

Chang had heard about the Black Dragon
whose storms defeated invaders, but
whose floods drowned millions more.

He read about the Deviant Western Red Dragon
From the Lands of Smaug,
Guarding Treasures beyond Measures,
Greedy and Angry in a burning fog.

Chang once learned that
Yunmen's Cane changed into a Brown Dragon,
Who swallowed the East Sea,
And rained on the Entire Universe.

He once heard the Lonely Dragon
Howling in a Withered Tree;
Who Saw all the World's Sorrows,
From his Eyes in a White Skull.

Master Chang thanked the Green Dragon
for the rain on the rice
the dew on the tea leaves
the mist over our farmlands
the water in our cups.

At the Edge of the Dragon Pool,
At the Midnight Hour,
The Dragon Master blew out
The Candle of Delusion.

At dawn, after dreaming of Dragons,
He awoke!
There was a Green Dragon
Curled up on his bed.
In fear, he brandished his cane;
Rebuffed, the Green Dragon fled.

Master Chang San-Feng then
asked Shifu Miao Zhang,
"When you meet the Green Dragon someday;
What will You Do? What will you Say?"

mpgEoW2 495, May 2014

Taoism

Meetings with Master Chang San-Feng

Table of Contents

Replant the Mind

The True Gardener of No Title deadheads
Persona after persona, shears the hedges
Of endless desires, digs up the dank
Roots of illusions, prunes out the rank
Suckers of sectarian ire, and weeds away
Attachments that choke out the Way.

The Mind is a vast Bodhi forest,
The body a Bodhi tree.
Dirt is in every cranny,
Flowers blossom, leaves fall.

The Bodhi Trees have been cut down,
The Bright Mirrors shattered.
Beginning with nothing,
Replant the trees, remake the mirrors.

Make one's mind like a mirror,
One's body like the Giving tree.
Reflect accurately and impartially;
Give fruit and shade.

Table of Contents

The Bottom Line

"Caress the detail, the divine detail."
    - Vladimir Nabokov
“We think in generalities, but we live in details.”
    - W. H. Auden
"The idea of one overbearing truth is exhausted."
    - Thomas Mann
“A profound attention to the details of this world.”
    - George Levine
“Cherish the minutes heureuses.”
    - Charles Baudelaire
“The vast and unsuspected reality of small things
    - Robert Nozick
“We are better satisfied in particulars.”
    - Wallace Stevens
"God is in the details." - Mies Van Der Rohe

“Details are all there are.” - Maezumi Roshi
“Focus on small worlds of order.” - Paul Valery
“No ideas but in things." - William Carlos Williams
"To study the self is to forget the self.
To forget the self is to be enlightened
By the ten thousand things." - Zen Master Dogen

mpgEoW2 290, February 2013

Table of Contents

Zinnias, Zither, and Mums

Pondering ... mums flowering, zinnias seeding.
Autumn flowering, autumn seeding, endlessly.
Reminded: zinnias are time, mums are time.
Same time, same season, different reasons.
What came first, the flower or the seed?
Can some flowers and seeds interbreed?
Bees on the mums, beetle bugs on the zinnias.
Look down, stare, wondering what, Care.

There was no Zither here,
no Zither to tune or share.
Just damp dirt, and flowers
growing here in the bower.

Table of Contents

Pulling Onions
Over 1,000 one-line quips, considerations,
ruminations, suggestions, and observations.

25 Steps and Beyond: The Collected Works

Poetry Research

September in Red Bluff

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Table of Contents

A Gift of Dried Garlic Flowers
At the Edges of the Fertile West, Volume 2
By Michael P. Garofalo
Memories of West Coast Places
Highway 99 and Interstate 5
West Coast USA
Version 1, March 2025


Table of Contents
In Alphabetical Order
A Gift of Dried Garlic Flowers

Blue Dragons from the Sea 495

Bottom Line 290

Chanting Canyon Streams 440

Crash, Smashed! 310

Depending on Everything 325

Details on Details, Zoom In 485

Electric Fatalities 435

Flowers in the Sky 345

Fork in the Crypto Road 370

A Gift of Dried Garlic Flowers 295

Illusions of Seven O'Clock 415

Killer Smoke— Choke! 315

Lit-Head Looks for One-Liners 480

Little Ball of Great Doubt 300

Meditations on Time, Mind, Three and Me 360

1. Recreate the Past 355

2. A Time of Dangling Dualistic Dichotomies 350

3. Flowers in the Sky 345

Men and Machines are Working Again 445

More Images, Less Fluff 470

my lips turned to stones 390

One-Liners Waiting in Line 480

On Not Resisting Temptations 335

Outside in a Cool Dream 475

Pleasures of Masochistic Conundrums 305

Prime Your Mind with Some Guiding Rhymes 365

Pulling Onions in Red Bluff 375

Putrid Smog. Killer Smoke Choke! 315

Quacking Cacophony 395

qwaxwqx ?astaw s?axu tas? 465

Raven Broke Open the Magical Clam 465
    qwaxwqx ?astaw s?axu tas?

Recreate the Past 355

Replant the Mind 280

saghili pee kekwillie chuck 410

Salmon are Back 385

Scissors of My Decisions 330

Seeing Both as One 405

Skeletons in Love 420

Small Ball of Great Doubt 300

Stepping Over Epiphanies 320

Stroll Bravely Out 410

the tide comes in, the tide goes out 410
    saghili pee keekwillie chuck

Time of Dangling Dualistic Dichotomies 350

Things Stick Tight 460

2+2=4: Now and Forever More 450

Ugh! 340

Uncle Mike Took Me to See Bruce Lee 405

Valentine's Day 380

Walnut Trees on a Winter Day 425

The Well Provides 285

Will Cherished Ideals Survive 490

Winter at the Door 455

Yellow Patty-Pans in the Pure Sunshine 430

Zinnias, Zither, and Mums 400

Thematic Index, Topics, Subjects

A Gift of Dried Garlic Flowers
At the Edges of the Fertile West, Volume 2
By Michael P. Garofalo

In your web browser or PDF viewer,
press Ctrl + F to open the Search
Box. Type in the number listed below,
scroll, to go to the the bottom of the poem
with the subject that you want to read.

Accidents 310
Advice 365
Aging 405
Animals 465
Aphorisms 375, 365
Asian 390, 300
Automobiles 310
Beachcombing 320
Beliefs 450
Big Foot 370
Birds 385
Blog 300
Body 325
Boho 335
Bravery 410
Buddhism 345, 300, 280
Change 425
Chang San-Feng 355, 390
Childhood 405
Chinese 495, 390
Clam 465
Concrete Poetry 340, 350, 375, 480, 310
Courage 410
Crashes 310
Creation 465
Cryptids 370
Death 310
Deceptions 415
Decisions 330
Dependency 325
Details 485, 290
Directness 290
Disaster 435, 340
Dogen 345
Doors 455
Doubt 300
Dragons 495
Dualisms 350
Emptiness 345
Epipanies 320
Events 290, 310
Everything 325
Facts 450, 290
Family 475
Flowers 345
Forests 370
Forgetting 335
Forks WA 370
Future 355
Gardening 375, 405, 305, 285
Geese 395
Haiku 480
Hakuin 300
History 490
Ideals 490
Illusions 415, 320
Images 470
Imagism 290
Koans 300
Liberty 335
Life Choices 330
Lit-Head 480
Looking 405
Love 420, 380
Machines 445
Marvels 485, 320
Masochism 305
Mechanical 460
Meditations 360
Memory 320
Mind 360, 280
Migration 385
Morro Bay 475
Mountains 390
Mums 480
Mysticism 440, 390, 355, 350, 345
Mythology 495, 465, 390
Native Americans 465
Nuclear 435
Olympic Peninsula 465
One 405
One-Liners 480, 375
Others 330
Past 355
Philosophy 305
Photographs 410, 400
Pictures 340
Pleasures 305
Poetry 480, 470
Present 355
Pulling Onions 375
Quotations 305
Raven 465
Rebirth 420
Religion 450
Reproduction 420
Rhymes 360
Romance 380
Salmon 385
Sayings 375, 365
Seashore 475, 320
Self 325
Skeletons 420
Skills 460
Sky 345
Spirituality 350, 440, 355, 390
Suggestions 365
Television 415
Temptations 335
Things 485, 290
Threes 360
Time 360, 355, 350, 345
Transformation 495
Trickery 415
Trees 425, 280
21st Century 415
Ugh! 340
Uncle Mike 405
Unions 445
Valentine 380
Vampires 370
Violence 340
Visions 495
Walnuts 425
Washington State 465
Water 285
Well Pump 285
Winter 455
Words 470, 480, 340
Work 445
Zen 300, 290
Zinnias 480

Highway 99: A Literary Journey through California's Great Central Valley. Edited by Stan Yogi. Heyday Books in conjunction with the California Council for the Humanities, 1996, 428 pages, index, bibliography, biographies of authors. VSCL.

Highway 99 Books

That Ribbon of Highway: Highway 99 from the Mexican Border through the Pacific Northwest. By Jill Livingston. 3 Volumes. Living gold Press, 2003.

Brief Biography of Michael P. Garofalo

25 Steps and Beyond: The Collected Works

Cuttings: Haiku and Short Poems

Pulling Onions: Over 1,000 One-Liners

Green Way Research Subject Index

Cloud Hands Blog

Facebook

Four Days at Grayland Beach

How to Live a Good Life

The Fireplace Records Koan Collection

The Spirit of Gardening

Concrete Poetry

The Sonnets Flowed by Gushen Grove