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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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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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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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UNTIL DEATH
They sit placidly on two small chairs placed by the steps of the Great Shrine each in the wedding clothes their families have worn for generations too many to count. I stand, out of the picture, leaning on the gate, telephoto lens extended and gently push down until I hear the click. They smile as their fingers…
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MEMORIAL
This woman approaches the stone, carefully places sake and cherry blossoms and leans a sotoba against it, before bowing and walking away. It is what you do for a son, she says, looking at the bibbed Jizo hoping she can protect the child who lies beneath. That woman approaches the headstone, gently places the flowers and leans…
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NARA PARK
I Ducks skitter across Ara-ike pond like a perfectly thrown skipping stone. Two sit and preen on large rocks left as pedestals. A spider dragging its prey along the weathered wood railing of the bridge pauses for a moment to contemplate ducks, then moves on consumed by hunger. II Several deer languish among the wizened…
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NARA
The clouds shimmer in echo of the peel of the great temple bell. Hearing the chorus of monks, a small red maple sheds a leaf. It is the butterfly whose wings gavotte to the inkin bell which causes waves to lap the shore of a distant sea.
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HEAVEN
Joseph said he once met an angel on the bullet train between Osaka and Tokyo. I asked him if her wings were feathered, he said “no, it was her smile” and it was gossamer. Joseph said they spoke only briefly, she through long black hair, in Japanese, he in his only language, English. She was…
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THE BUDDHIST TEMPLE AT NARA
On the steps of the Temple the unexpected morning snow which cast a threadbare blanket over the gates and lanterns recedes slowly like a supplicant whose prayers have been offered. The candle flames shiver in the strong February wind while the Buddha sits, implacable. In the park below a dragon kite takes the wind and…
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NARA PARK
He sits, head so far above, a muted gold, on the giant altar the incense rising up his chest and clouding the eyes of the slow parade of supplicants who bow, recite remembered bits of sutra, or just pause in the semi-silence of the park. They are all seekers, but it is only the few lingering…
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an old writer and his words 