I
the post-perched bird
remains still, but for its eyes,
which dart about —
below, fish shoot and jink,
thinking the post oddly shaped
II
the mountains reflect
off of that glassy lake
with such clarity;
all know which mountains are true
except for the fishes
III
behind the barracks,
some local women gather
to bath at the well.
he pretends not to look
they pretend not to be seen
I
thundering falls
sing a mind into trance —
timeless sound
II
nearing the falls,
the grand spectacle becomes
a fog wall
III
yamabushi
sit under the cascade —
nails unhammered
IV
seeking earth’s center,
the river drops as far as
land allows
V
a round boulder
sits at the precipice,
refusing to roll
I
a breeze tousles branches
then, in stillness, red leaves
cascade downward
II
hawk and half-moon
in one blue, morning sky
then clouds come
III
pine tree tips
droop flaccidly over
the road
IV
the divine madman
sows havoc, showing neither
reason nor angst
V
too little water
kills the plant; too much water
kills the plant
clouds crawl in,
hiding whole mountains —
i await, “Ta-Da!”
sun comes out,
flash-boiling droplets —
steam breathing
life abounds, it’s
max. occupancy living;
yet, none are seen
plants grow from stone
wall becomes a hedgerow…
but shaggier
elephant ear
leaf is played by the rain
like a mad drummer
I
rocks tumble
as crashing waves erode
the cliff wall
II
at land’s end,
surf punishes the earth —
rocks forgive
III
looking out
to the endless sky
all ‘s unbounded
IV
a bird perched
upon a cliff doesn’t
mull mortality
I
clouds enshroud
mountainous monoliths
faking world’s end
II
gnarled tree
growing from a crack
in worn rock
III
waiting to fall
precarious rock column
stands in rock time
IV
the clouds rise
revealing split rock —
peek-a-boo
V
god’s bonsai
a faint tracing seen
through cloud webs
I
in corn country,
the scent of rain often
outpaced the clouds
II
a slanting rain,
sounding machine-like
pounds the ground
III
with these mean rains,
my invite to outdoors
has been revoked
IV
mossy mountain,
its flipside is dry grass –
yin to its yang
V
hanging droplets
on the fringe of fungus
drip in due time
I
waves bash stone —
volcanic rock walls pocked
a grain at a time
II
crashing sounds —
perfectly formed waves to
sizzling foam
III
beach sweeping
waves push and pull sand
step tales erased
IV
gray skies
the typhoon unseen
but expected
V
wave doubles back
upon hitting the stony shore:
return to sender
I
hold travel plans
like a stinky diaper —
not like a crowbar
II
the mountaintop
is always farther
than it looks
III
sorry Mr. Frost,
the less traveled road
is a deadend
IV
eat local food
cheeseburger in Shangri-la…
never sicker
Under cottony clouds, my gaze fell upon the borehole by which slanted shafts of light found the ground. A divine spotlight that shone only on the liquid metal surface of a smooth flowing river at a point just before the rapids were reached. A closed-eyed kayaker might feel graced by the warm sunshine on his face. But only for the moment before being cast into a dim and turbulent transition from heaven to hell.
divine spotlight
a beam of sunlight burns
through gray clouds
