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.
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?
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; --
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
I take a sunrise photo
And find the glorious orb
Diminished by poor photography,
& upstaged by a flaring pigeon.
Drifting down the river --
No command nor control.
See the water glimmer,
Circling 'round a hole.
Then one's world drops out,
And one's peace is gone.
Everything is in doubt...
'til you're spun out on the lawn.
Why fades a dream?
An iridescent ray
Flecked in between the tryst
Of night and day.
Why fades a dream? --
Of consciousness the shade
Wrought out by lack of light and made
Upon life's stream.
Why fades a dream?
That thought may thrive,
So fades the fleshless dream;
Lest men should learn to trust
The things that seem.
So fades a dream,
That living thought may grow
And like a waxing star-beam glow
Upon life's stream --
So fades a dream.
a moth, wings tattered,
basks in the canopy-
breaching spotlight.
The splendour falls on castle walls
And snowy summits in old story:
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying,
sunrise paints the haze
the color of campfire flames,
and nothing looks real,
but rather like a painting
by an artist, skilled & lazy.
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