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SIREN SONG
I should stand on the shoretake up a great shelland blow a trumpet songto the whales who stayalways just beyond sight. I have no shoreon which to standand had I one, I lackthe skill to plucka song from a shelland so the whalesI imagine offshoremust listen carefullyto the song I castdeep within my dreams.
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THE ROOM
It was a strange room,that much I recall, with heavyvelvet curtains coveringwhat should have been a window, and might once have been, but no longer. The only light was a bare bulbin the ceiling, casting a soft amber wash across the time worn oak floor,and once white walls. There was a chair, nondescriptand now long forgottenand a small…
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RUSHING IN
Step right up, don’t hang back,come and watch the fool perform for you.You know me, bedecked in motley emotionsworn like so many colorful rags,a suit of too many shades and hues,all displayed for your entertainment.See if you can find ten shades of angeras I prance around in front of you.Count the five flavors of tearsthat…
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A NOVEL IDEA
If I were a character in a novel, sayby Kawabata, that evening we mettwenty years ago, I would haveplaced my hand lightly on your shoulder,and I would have felt a heat,embers of a passion that would,in hours, leave me consumed by it. I was a middle-aged, soon to bedivorced man on his first datein thirty…
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KENSHO
Tonight, if all goes well, I will bea monk in a good-sized Buddhist temple.I am hoping it will be in Nara,at Todai-ji perhaps, or Asakusaat Senso-ji, or better still somewherein Kyoto, although it might well bein the Myanmar jungle or somewheredeep within the Laotian highlands. One problem with that world isthat I have no control…
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ON THIS NIGHT
On this nighthe walks silentlyinto her dream uninvited,but she is usedto the incursions.On other nights itis she who sidlesup to him in the depthsof dreaming, eachslipping awayahead of dawn.On rare nights eachenters the dreamsof the other, pathscrossing atthe synaptic border.On those nightsshe looks for him,he for her, eachgrows fearfulthe he or shewill be trapped,alone, when…
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ASK OF THE SEA
When you ask me of the sea,living, as I do, fifteen milesfrom the nearest ocean, itis not the sandy beachesof Hutchinson Island I recall,nor the crowded sandboxthat is Fort Lauderdale’s beach. If you ask me of the sea,it is perched on the horizon,far in the distance, lookingout of the kitchen window,or perhaps that of the…
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EYES HAVE IT
It is the eyes that fall in love,the heart that follows likean always faithful shadow,and the mind and reason thatare bound to darkness and silence. That is what I learned in my dreamlast night, or my recollection of it, for dreamsmay fade in the sharp light of morning. But dreams have a potent magic, a…
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LESSONS
The most important lessons he taughtwere in those moments when he wasabsolutely silent, the smile acrosshis face shouting across the backgrounddin of everyday life, his eyes widewith a sort of childish awe that I hadlong since given up as adolescent. The child sees everything for the first timeregardless how many times she hasgazed at what…
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ABIDING
The dawning sun brings forth the birds’morning chorus, their song glidesthrough the windows, no wordsare needed, their meaning heardand through it all, morning simply abides. We are left to shelter within, to girdourselves against the unseen tidethat has washed over us undeterred,rendered all once normal absurdand through it all, morning simply abides. We cannot change…
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an old writer and his words 