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RISHO’S POEM 鐵笛倒吹 三十語
Have you been here – who will know? The sun and moon record your journey. What you release gathers joyously around you, what you cling to flies off on the slightest breeze, mountain and cloud enfold each other. Will you join them? A reflection on case 35 of the Iron Flute Koans
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AROUND
What they simply cannot understand is what his take as a vinyl disc is a moment in a life, a memory encased, over which a dancing stylus bleeds dreams and a history of time is written on the back of its sleeve. They cannot grasp that music doesn’t fit neatly in your pocket, that your…
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THREADS
This morning I plucked a thread of silence from the dawn, watched, carefully by a cardinal who knew not to break the purity of the moment. I do this as often as I can sometimes grabbing one from the moon, as it sits overhead, holding out its promise of quietude as people retreat into homes.…
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REFLECTION
The thing with mirrors is that they always want to tell the truth where we what is lies, or at least a little fibs, some wrinkles smoothed, hair now a color the mirror is more than capable of reflecting, but mirrors don’t bend to our wishes, and when they do, at carnivals mostly, the result…
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NAM
He said, “I survived the war, was up to my armpits in water wading through the night through the rice plants that would never bear grain once we called in the orange. I walk through minefields, the noise a deafening silence since the only sound that mattered was the click that shouted death You think…
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FOR SPACIOUS SKIES
Two men, having reached an indeterminate age, sit on old chairs outside the small town grocery, it’s neon beer sign half, flickering, around the corner from the bank on main street. One, plaid shirt tucked in coveralls, one bib strap unbuckled, leans back, takes a turn on his long neck, his cane propped against his…
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LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER
My mother no longer speaks to me. It is not that she has been dead two years, that passage would hardly be an impediment for her. I would like to think she has nothing left to say, having said it all so many times in the past. Some say we will see each other again…
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THE QUESTION
If my mother was here she would ask me what I have to say for myself. Just this once, I would remain silent, for there is nothing that needs saying and she would be certain that if there were she should be the one to say it, but silence would drive her mad. So perhaps…
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IN A ROOM OF HORSE MANURE
My sister only wanted a horse an my parents thought they could solve that dilemma with a pony at her fifth birthday party where she would get all the extra rides, her friends and playmates be damned. Like most great parental plans, this one was doomed to failure, and failure marched front and center as…
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TICK TICK TICK
My grandson has a smile that is as old as time itself, as young as the mind of a four-year-old and in this moment, beaming, I am left to guess which it is, for he won’t say, and so I smile with him and time has no meaning, no beginning, no end.
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an old writer and his words 