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

at water’s edge,
snakes wrestle: writhing, twining,
but slipping the pin.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

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

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

Mist touches cold water and moon embraces the sand.
I’m moored for the night near a tavern on the Qinhuai.
The singing girl doesn’t know the empire is in bitter ruin.
Across the river I hear her singing “Blossom of the Inner Court.”
Translation: Barnstone, Tony and Ping, Chou. 2005. The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry: From Ancient to Contemporary. New York: Anchor Books.

naked branches
of the frangipani
bud with blossoms.

from still water
juts deadwood on which herons
perch with their shadows.
We are pattern seekers, believers in a coherent world, in which regularities appear not by accident but as a result of mechanical causality or someone’s intention.
Daniel kahneman; Thinking, Fast and slow
If you win, do not boast of your victory; if you lose, do not be discouraged. When it is safe, do not become careless; when it is dangerous, do not fear. Simply continue down the path ahead.
Kanō Jigorō; Founder of Jūdō
A writer makes new life in the void, knocks on silence to make a sound, binds space and time on a sheet of silk and pours out a river from an inch-sized heart.
Lu Ji; Wen Fu (261 – 303)
The worst kind of Virtue never stops striving for Virtue, and so never achieves Virtue.
Laozi
Moonlight floods the whole sky from horizon to horizon. // How much it can fill your room depends on its windows.
Rumi

leaves have dropped;
reflected sun viewed twixt
bristled seedpod clusters.