I spied this rainbow lurking over Kofu City as I was walking back from work today. In Japanese, the word for rainbow is niji.
Kofu, Japan2016年5月17日
:::heaven on earth:::
201６年５月５日
Yesterday, I visited Ashikaga Flower Park with my dear friend “M”, who is pictured here. Ashikaga is known for its grand wisteria gardens; believe me, they are indeed grand！ The park is open almost year-round and when wisteria is not in season, they showcase flowers such as clematis, roses, and tulips.
Ashikaga Flower Park
untitled
Your life belongs to you alone;
beware of pointing blame.
To wretchedness that you have sown,
you must affix your name.
night walk
Now and again, the clocks that we’ve
buried offer us calloused palms.
Dressed in weary bandages of dry, rotting
earth, weeping hands reach out from biting
mire with time on their skin.
They do this so that we may know the
frailty of our faces.
Wedding March
Over glowing glass,
broken feet beckon shyly,
fearful of impassioned paths.
Wisteria hair
stumbles against broad shoulders,
steeped in the heat of her flame.
Strawberry Sake
Over the weekend, my husband and I infused sake with two pints of fresh strawberries. Two days ago, I did the first straining to remove the strawberries. Today, the sake went through a second filtering to remove any bits of strawberries that remained after the initial straining. We are going to pour our first glass tonight!
Do you want to try making this kind of infused sake at home?
Here is the recipe!
Recipe: Strawberry-infused sake
Household Songs: The Brief and Unremarkable Life of Joseph Clarence Strauss/XII
Hands–puckered, pale, and patched–
slowly grow stiff
in the geometric sea that once kept
them warm.
All branches are struck by
time’s uncontrollable thunder.
Incomplete trees line landscapes, clinging fiercely to
shifting earth.
花見・cherry-blossom viewing
During Japan’s 花見/hanami season, visitors to Minobusan Kuonji Temple enjoy taking photographs of the temple’s numerous cherry-blossom trees, which are blooming in abundance.
Yamanashi Prefecture
2016年4月2日
Cinquain/LXXXVI
scandals,
from mouth to ear,
waft slyly by candles,
whilst tipsy minions strain to hear
cheap smears
Broken Bars
Empty as David’s seat, a befouled mouth shrieks
at high Sturgeon Moon, gasping for air–what
little can be had–within an offensive red sea,
which swirls malevolently throughout multitudes
of calloused feet, taunting us with decades of
dying heads.
Wrenched from ancient jaws with unremitting
brutality, sovereignty–smoother than pink root
and whiter than snow–gallops away from smoldering
earth around thick, sinuous necks.
Faithful soldiers, once unyielding in their loyalty, vanish
into a sylvan embrace, forever silent in their surrender.
sundry folly 