Friday, January 17, 2020

Variant on Kokin Wakashu, 10

I wonder if there is anything to do,
anything left undone.
The  laundry of the soul.
Letters intended but unwritten,
written but unsent. Written
over and over
then abandoned,
crumpled up
and tossed out.
I wonder
what the world
could have been, what life
I might have taken on
if I did not
wear this one
quite so often?

Thursday, January 16, 2020

Variant on Kokin Wakashu, 9

If snow covered the sun.
If the earth glowed
with the light of a thousand stars.
If you could hold the moon in your hand
like a potato freshly dug
from the earth, still smelling
of another world
it came from.

Wednesday, January 15, 2020

Variant on Kokin Wakashu, 8

Snow covers the sun.
No clouds, no warmth,
no color. The world
shakes itself
like a dog
in winter.

Friday, January 10, 2020

Variant on Kokin Wakashu, 7 (The Last Fold)

Fold your heart.
Fold it again.
Like multi-colored paper:
red on one side, white on the other.
Fold it a third time, a fourth.
Things begin to take shape.
A crane, a mountain,
a boat, a tree covered in snow.
The last fold could explain it all
if you have the skill
or the patience
to pull it off.
Try.

Tuesday, January 7, 2020

Variation on Kokin Wakashu, 6

Ask the snow.
It won't be here forever.
Ask it

how many blossoms
it can see
hiding under its coat.

Wednesday, January 1, 2020

Variation on Kokin Wakashu, 5 (Not Telling)

Snow on the plum blossoms.
Like putting funny hats
on religious statues.
How do I know? Not telling.

Tuesday, December 31, 2019

Variation on Kokin Wakashu, 4

Snow in snow.
Wind inside the wind.

The seasons follow each other
like carriages on a train.
You see the faces
of the passengers
but the train is so long
there is no way to make out
the beginning or end.

Monday, December 30, 2019

Variation on Kokin Wakashu, 3

The snow pretends to be a mountain.
The mountain pretends to be a cloud.
But the clouds are not pretending.
They are the elders of the congress of snow.
They are mountains floating

above a pretend world.

Reflections in a lake
pretending to be sky,
pretending to be the lake
it will become
when the snow stops
pretending
and admits it is a disguise
rain wears in the cold.

Sunday, December 29, 2019

Found Poems

A spring day... in the middle of spring.

The smoldering water dazzle.

Snow is pretending to be a mountain of spring.

If you fold your heart and fold it, you can see the snow flowers.

The snow that will become the snow of me.



*Machine translation (Google) taken from Kokin Wakashu.

Thursday, December 26, 2019

Variation on Kokin Wakashu, 1

Surprise! A spring day
in the middle of Spring.

Spring crept into the room, unannounced.
He was surprised what he found.