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THE SKY
The sky is the leaden gray that denies the sun and threatens the moon’s arrival. It presses down on the roofs of the talest buildings, wraps them in a depression those on the street below feel without need of looking up. This is a teasing sky- a drop here, there, until we know we are…
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TIPPING THE WATER BOTTLE 無門關 四十
These few words gathered neatly on a scrap of simple paper, what do you call it? Answer carefully for you response may carry the keys to the doors of Mount Tai-i. Better still, upend the water bottle, watch the ink and water form a gentle pool into which no pebble drops. A reflection on Case…
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NI HAIKU 二俳句
a great blue heron watches the morning sun rise ginkgos awaken newly hatched goslings watching the trees take flower imagine summer 大な青い鷺 朝の太陽を見る イチョウ覚醒 孵化した新芽 木の花を見て 夏の夢 (daina aoi sagi Asa no taiyō o miru Ichō kakusei Fuka shita shinme Ki no hana o mite Natsu no yume)
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IN DREAMS
Late in the night a train rolled by through the city, a few miles down the hill from here, its horn muted but still required at crossings. I know it appeared in my dreams, but I cannot tell if it was as the heron in flight over the lake, or the long bearded hiker with…
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THE MUSIC OF SPRING
The music hides, just out of sight, beyond the edge of hearing. We assume it must be something by Mozart or at least Bach, a tocatta and fugue, swallowed by the trees, the cardinal singing faintly, mirroring the tune, but there is only the wind meandering throught the pines which have cast off the weight…
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TWO SEASONS (HAIKU)
Blue heron takes flight giant wings stir wispy clouds April emerges. December garden faceless Buddha loudly laughs wriggling toes in snow.
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SOZAN’S FOUR DON’TS 鐵笛倒吹 九十二
You may seek to follow the path of the dove – a fool knows many roads. You may wrap yourself in fine linen – an infant wears only his skin, and knows this moment is already gone. Think long before you speak of how to walk along the path, of where it leads. The baby…
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KEGON RETURNS TO DELUSIONS 鐵笛倒吹 語十二
If a gentle flower falls from its branch do you mourn its departure. The fool attempts to place it back in the bush, the wise one waits for another flower to appear. Each is the same flower but how will the fool become wise. A reflection on case 52 of the Iron Flute.
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NOW LISTEN UP
I read a poem today, about a cat and it reminded me, actually the memory of my last cat came to mind, that cats have an innate sense of people, that people utterly lack. It may be that cats are completely unfooled by the masks we wear, or simply that they could care less how…
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TRUE MEASURE
If you ask me the true measure of a passing moment, I will tell you it is at once invaluable, and by equal measure useless, lost in the detritus of time’s wave, now receded. Do not try and cling to it for your memory is all that is impermeable, and then only in a moment…
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an old writer and his words 