PROMPT: Ban

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.

Autumn Gold [Haiku]

gold-sash Buddha
sits under Fall colors,
watching leaves drop.

DAILY PHOTO: Chiang Mai Street Art

Hide Your Light [Kyōka]

the rising sun
hides behind winter trees
as a fat kid
hides behinds a fence post,
fooling no one.

“Night Rain” by Bai Juyi [w/ Audio]

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.

PROMPT: Challenge

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.

Temple Walk [Haiku]

frangipani blooms
litter the temple walk.
sound of sweeping.

Invisible Fence [Free Verse]

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?

DAILY PHOTO: Pai Memorial Bridge

“The World Is Too Much With Us” by William Wordsworth [w/ Audio]

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.