
butterfly lands
on flower, pumps wings twice,
and sputters off.

butterfly lands
on flower, pumps wings twice,
and sputters off.

a single branch,
leafless but bloom-laden,
against the Autumn moon.
The Poetry of Zen by Sam HamillThe trade-wind jingles the rings in the nets around the racks
by the docks on Indian River.
It is the same jingle of the water among the roots under the
banks of the palmettoes,
It is the same jingle of the red-bird breasting the orange-trees
out of the cedars
Yet there is no spring in Florida, neither in boskage perdu, nor
on the nunnery beaches.
Some shoots and stalks stand out --
Taller than the masses.
Their form eludes pursuit,
Sound slips through, like gases.
Great lines are always disjunct:
Don't weave with mid'ling lyrics.
They're pent up and peerless:
Chop them? A win that's pyrrhic.
Jade flecks make mountains shimmer,
Pearly waters enchant.
The thicket mustn't be clipped
If Kingfisher's glory, grant.
Stitched words end under snow,
Work the weft, steady and slow.
The original in Simplified Chinese is:
或苕发颖竖,离众绝致。
形不可逐,响难为系。
块孤立而特峙,非常音之所纬。
心牢落而无偶,意徘徊而不能揥。
石韫玉而山辉,水怀珠而川媚。
彼榛楛之勿翦,亦蒙荣于集翠。
缀下里于白雪,吾亦济夫所伟。
City market sprawls
Under covered roofs --
Blocks and blocks
With no outside, and yet
Not really inside either.
Miles of food:
Raw, cooked, and
-- Sometimes -- living,
Squirming in buckets
Or trying to flip to freedom.
In the witching hour,
With blue tarps up
And food stowed
And only streetlamps lit,
A drunk stumbles through,
Crushing an overripe
Peach underfoot.