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WITHOUT BEES
In the photograph the two great blue heron’s stare at each other. We are not certain if this is love, or there is something far more ominous impending. Birds have a way of being inscrutable, and herons are often mistaken for cranes, although I cannot imagine a senbazuru of herons. In the photo, their beaks…
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DEFIANCE
The stone defies the flame, drawing it in unyielding, until it is licked by the snow of winter The page defies the words, denying them purchase, they are flat without eyes to see them the repose unbroken The barren earth defies the king who orders it fertile as sand swirls engulfing the palace tearing at its…
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DREAMS
Somewhere, tonight a bagpiper is playing., Notes from the drone and chanters lick the sky, piercing passing clouds, embedding themselves in the stars. Somewhere else a flute player fingers the stops as notes pour forth and dance on the moonlit lawn. Neither piper nor flautist hear each other, but I weave both into a song,…
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NEON
Tokyo floats on a sea of lights washing to the horizons, whitecaps of neon break the placid surface, golden arches bob like fishing boats awaiting the dawn and the rebirth of life. The urban sea is manned by sailors each in his uniform, some scampering up the rigging, hoisting the sails of steel, concrete and…
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ORPHAN
I was a foundling wandering from Guinness Stout to Ouzo and back, in search of identity. In Schul I would cry out to Him asking, “Who am I?” and He would answer, “you are, you are.” The balalaika of my mother’s grandfather sounded tinny, a cacophony lost in Oporto, Lisboa. On the streets of Vienna…
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REALITY RHYMES
Little Jack Horner sat in a corner suffering from a severe narcissistic personality disorder. Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he, until he died from a combination of cirrhosis of the liver and emphysema. Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet eating her curds and whey, and…
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FOR THIS MOMENT
The sea is calm today not the petulant child thrashing at the harbor leaving her stone tears in the sands. Perhaps it is the sun stroking her dappled skin or perhaps she is merely listening to the whispers of clouds sliding off into the horizon. We don’t question the sea, that is for Jonahs, and…
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TOKYO MEMORIES
1. An older, silver-haired woman in neon green pants, a brown blouse and black shop apron stoops and carefully scrubs the alleyway outside her small shop. 2. Salarymen fill the tunnels of Kokkai-gijidomae station at 6 P.M., 7, 8, and in fewer numbers, 9, shuffling down the long corridors to the Chiyoda or Marunouchi Line trains,…
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NO DIFFERENCE
He said: I took the road less travelled by and still haven’t found my way home. I need some space she said, slowly unfolding herself. He replied: I’ll give you all of Montana if you want, all but Bozeman, that I’m keeping for myself.
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LEILA
At the left click of the mouse my granddaughter appears barely a week old and with a right-click she is frozen into the hard drive. I remember sitting outside the Buddha Hall of Todai-Ji Temple in the mid-morning August sun the smiling at a baby waiting in her stroller for her mother to bow to…
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an old writer and his words 