wizards
cloaked in ermine
course calmly through blizzards,
casting enchanted spells within
the din
Monthly Archives: August 2015
Currents
How many times
have I lain listlessly
in my own shadow
replaying weathered
and changeless
memories instead
of seeking the
unknown and
possibly joy-filled
passages that
exist beyond this
window? Tides
rarely change for
men who do not
know the Sun.
Household Songs: IV
A chubby, bronzed thumb plucks
needless tears from
a flushed face, discarding them quickly onto
the ground.
Commanded to supper, he gallops
past muted white
bells as April’s fleeting sweetness runs down
his chin.
蜻蛉/Dragonfly
This was taken in Kabukibunka Park in Ichikawamisato/Japan
Over the Bridge
From dense woodland to broad steppes, we trekked
with babes on our backs and hope at
our heels, seeking solace in
an age of profound change,
when we bid farewell
to distant kin
and forged a
friendless
path.
Photographing Fuji
A man stops to take a photograph of Mount Fuji – Fujikawaguchiko, Japan
Far From the Blazing Stars
Beneath a buzzing vault of viper skins,
I slither through the belly of a lake,
where my lean lower limbs morph into fins.
By Suijin’s deep grace, I swiftly make
my way past ruthless currents and begin
to transform into an enchanted snake.
It seems my life on land is over now.
I never shall return – to that I vow.
———————-
Suijin is the Shinto god of water in Japan. This was written in Ottava rima form.
Sidelined Swimming
While hiking around Lake Kawaguchiko (河口湖) yesterday, I came across this abandoned pool that looked as if had belonged to a lakeside hotel property that had shuttered some years ago. Lake Kawaguchiko is about a 30 minute drive from Mount Fuji and is located in Japan’s Fuji Five Lakes Region (富士五湖).
Household Songs: XXX
Tongues of the beloved hunger
for delusive miracles
from a holy intersection of mahogany and
lacerated resin.
His presence in the doorway,
like a petticoat
parted by a wanton wind, flutters nigh
sallow feet.
Household Songs: I
A silk blouse torn from
convulsing, sunburnt hands
falls to the floor in a torrent
of dysphoria.
Weep not for the bodies
who float over
floorboards like docile dust balls going to
their graves.
sundry folly 