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TANKA, TANKA, HAIKU
The dawn sky arrivesvelvet blue on my fingersand the gathered birdshear the cobalt song of dayin this our private heaven On this sapphire nightstars search for the missing moonthe blue sky of dawnis still deeply in hidingfrom night’s moment of glory Oceans remembera time before we arrivedtheir once deep blueness
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DATED
The history books tell methat Gaius Julius Caesarthe great emperor of Romedied on March 15, 44 B.C.E.In my dream last nightI ran into Caesar and hesaid he was not happy thatthe month named afterhis nephew, the one he choseto succeed him had as manydays as did his, it should,he complained, have hadat least one if…
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UNFOLDING
Wake into the morning’s lightunsure of how you arrived in this moment,of what this day may promise,of how it will unfurl before you, perhapslike a work of art of a dementedorigami unfolding randomly, everythingor nothing at all, no way of knowing.This could be a delusion, could bethe dregs of a dream that night left behind,could…
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TWO FALLS OUT OF THREE
He had grown tired of wrestlingwith the moon, knowing he would loseevery match even when he wason the verge of finally pinning it,for it would wax or waneand he would be left graspingat the first rays of approaching dawn.He knew he should give up the effortbut his nature, his stubbornnesswould never allow it so once…
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THREE HAIKU
music of kotogently washes angry wallsspring robin is born lightening etches cloudsarching over the cityspring rain approaches rising sun castsits glow on the shirred mirrorof the reservoir
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HELPLESS
When night finally concedes,and departs for the horizondragging off my dreamsand pulling its shadow behind itinto a thickening fog, a scrimthat hides the dawn’s arrival,I realize what has been lost.I have tried to grasp dreamsas they recede but it is graspinglimpid mercury that obeys nodirection or request save thatof gravity, and that reluctantly.They will be…
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ROBE
Robe of liberationembodiment of emptinessin prescribed formonce Brahmin garbtattered strips of clothcarefully stitched togetherstitches made, pulledand resewn, bitsof dharma wornover the heartwanting silencebeneath the Bodhi treeawaiting the bell,the dawn,the triple recitation,the three prostrationsBuddhas and BuddhasIn waiting, abidingfailure and compassion.
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OUR SONGS
Each morning between fourand five AM the cat comesto the bedroom door, the gatewayto the one room she is deniedand for five or ten minutessings her songs which I,on the now rocky shore of sleep,imagine as a lullaby.She cannot expect me to respondbut each morning it isthe same, the songs differ,and when I finally ariseand…
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CINQUAINS
The moonslowly risingswallows the nearby starsbut promises they will returnby dawn The sundigests the moona temporary mealthat will end with the fall of nightagain
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FIVE BIRDS
The cold winter breezepalm fronds shivering at dawnegrets remain still a thousand birds landengage in conversationa foreign language arriving at duskwhite ibis strive to decidewho is the alpha the cat sits watchingthe sandhill crane approachesthey speak to each other a single ibisstruts across newly mown lawnsdinner now awaits
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an old writer and his words 