
on a narrow ridge,
covered with fine dust,
my foot slips. I’m awake!

on a narrow ridge,
covered with fine dust,
my foot slips. I’m awake!

one hundred birds
startle at my presence;
one eyeballs me.

a blossom falls
into the water:
i look. it’s gone.

curb crows
stand in a row.
what’s the sky say?

at water’s edge,
snakes wrestle: writhing, twining,
but slipping the pin.

paper lanterns
in the Daoist temple
turn my mind to Fall.

one pink-laden tree
stands amid a wall
of spring greenery.

naked branches
of the frangipani
bud with blossoms.

from still water
juts deadwood on which herons
perch with their shadows.