In the Sacro Facio (Sacred Making) Room

Some dixieland clarinet,
some ode to piano joy,
some celestial monk choir oms,
some car horns -
These are the keys to my meditation,
as I sit with lotus hands
upon a futon.

The tone of God comes
like the wave of the sea,
I can traipse in and out
playing peek-a-boo endlessly
like a fearless boy,
always home.