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OBSCENITY
It was sunrise, he was on the banks of the river, and he knew, in that moment that he would remember the scene, if not the name of the river, or where on its banks he was, that was of no consequence at all, only the beauty. When asked about it, he would say that…
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ANOTHER BAR, THIS ONE TOKYO
This poem was recently (February 5, 2019) published in the Beatnik Cowboy. Check them out at: https://beatnikcowboy.com/ “Another,” he said, his knees pressing against the mahogany panels of the old bar, “and keep them coming until I can take no more. There won’t be a last call tonight.” The clatter of caroming billiard balls…
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GYOZAN SITS
To a parched man sitting along the roadside a picture of the ocean will provide him nothing to quench his thirst and even if he jumps in the salt will lead to his imminent death. But give him the idea of a pond fed by a pure stream and he will be a content salmon…
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VINO
The vines cling to the hillside, the small buds soon yielding fruit but now simply soaking up the spring sun. You dream the grapes are fat, the deep purple orbs holding in their Syrah, Grenache, Mourvedre, and you only wish it would wash down the hillside and stain the sometimes fetid River. The boats flow…
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CUBIC
In the center of every city there ought to be a park, an expanse of green, trees older than the first European to arrive, so old they need not feign indifference to the humans who have invaded and refused to leave despite the mother (nature)’s request that they do so immediately. Some cities comply, but…
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APPROACHING NOW
I’ll be there soon, so hang in there just a bit longer. I do want to meet the beautiful young woman you mentioned in our calls, or is there more than one, because while your vision is supposed to be good, it seems almost all women younger than a certain ever-increasing age are now beautiful…
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WINDSOR EVENING
I sit in the window staring out over the rain slicked streets to the passing of the occasional car and the three men who glance furtively at the door of the “Adult Entertainment” club. The old oak floors are scarred by too many heels. The railing along the window is bolted into the floor, suspending…
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ESQUIRE
Even as a young child I imagined being a lawyer was a noble profession, spent Sunday evenings in front of the old Motorola TV watching Perry Mason stride up to the rail, stare into the witness’ eyes, with Paul Drake smiling in the first row. I tried to make my younger brother play Paul but…
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THE WEIGHT
There is a heaviness to the sky a weightiness belied by the gray of the clouds, even the departing sun seems to whisper that it will be replaced by rain in short order. You feel the weight bearing down, as the heat of the day dissipates, and although the first drops have not yet fallen,…
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DAIJI’S INNER CULTURE
Eyes can look within and discover a boundless universe but the tongue alone can speak only sounds that go false as they dance away unseen. The silence of zazen speaks the dharma, the teisho is offered mutely. The space between eye and tongue is but three inches or an unbridgeable void. A reflection on Case…
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an old writer and his words 