SPRING
on wet feet,
the sparrows hop
down the hall.
SUMMER
the owl naps,
and dreams of a
summer grove.
AUTUMN
sunny autumn day:
smoke from something burning
rises skyward.
WINTER
a snowy night;
the sound of bamboo
rustling.
If you could permanently ban a word from general usage, which one would it be? Why?
I would ban the word ban because banning is not a thing that should exist. It is not an impulse one should have.
gold-sash Buddha
sits under Fall colors,
watching leaves drop.
the rising sun
hides behind winter trees
as a fat kid
hides behinds a fence post,
fooling no one.
Chirp of an early cricket. Silence.
The lamp dies then flares up again.
Night must be raining outside the window:
plink, plink on the banana leaves.
Translation: Barnstone, Tony and Ping, Chou. 2005. The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry: From Ancient to Contemporary. New York: Anchor Books.
What is the biggest challenge you will face in the next six months?
I couldn’t possibly say. I make no claims to clairvoyance. Life happens. Sometimes the complicated things go smoothly and the simple things frustrate.
frangipani blooms
litter the temple walk.
sound of sweeping.
Where is the line whose crossing
sends a jolt through your system,
making you jelly-kneed & breathless?
Where is the line?
Do you know you're stepping over
before the shock zips through you?
Is anticipation of the shock
worse than the shock?
Who built this fence?
Who picked the notch to which
the severity of the shock
would be dialed?
Was it you?
