An overexposed photo
feels like it's from ages
ago --
decades past.
But it's from just the other day.
When I was there in person,
opening that shutter,
it didn't feel like the 90's,
but something about that photo
ages it...
and ages me.
Like water spilling over rocks?
Like a bead's roll across the floor?
Cliches, they fail to tell the story,
As no doll shows life's splendor.
But the Earth' unsupported spin through space,
As the heaven's pivot and sprawl for more...
If you could find how it all began,
You'd see it'll be as it was before.
The high and bright realm of the gods
Returns to nothing and nevermore.
And if you lived ten-thousand years,
You might find yourself in days of yore.
NOTE: The late Tang Dynasty poet, Sikong Tu (a.k.a. Ssŭ-k‘ung T‘u,) wrote an ars poetica entitled Twenty-Four Styles of Poetry. It presents twenty-four poems that are each in a different tone, reflecting varied concepts from Taoist philosophy and aesthetics. Above is a translation of the twenty-fourth of the twenty-four poems. This poem has been alternately titled “The Flowing Style,” “Fluid,” “Motion,” etc. by varied translators from its Chinese title of 流动.
the trail rounds onto
ruins: an old stone wall,
leaning & twisted.
on the hillside,
amid the wildflowers,
watching clouds shape-shift.
grass, shaggy & green,
sprawls across the valley;
swallows race & jink.
Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn?
Where may the grave of that good man be? --
By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn,
Under the twigs of a young birch tree!
The oak that in summer was sweet to hear,
And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year,
And whistled and roared in the winter alone,
Is gone, -- and the birch in its stead has grown. --
The Knight's bones are dust,
And his good sword rust; --
His soul is with the saints, I trust.
a cloud of pigeons
wheels about in a broad loop;
a thin batch returns.
a crisp trail
worn into the grass;
i move, butterfly-like.
I made my song a coat
Covered with embroideries
Out of old mythologies
From heel to throat;
But the fools caught it,
Wore it in the world's eyes
As though they'd wrought it.
Song, let them take it
For there's more enterprise
In walking naked.
the tree’s trunk
engulfed by vines & leaves, though
little light shines through
Tiger Riding for Beginners 