Tuesday, November 13, 2018

refugia
a
drift
a
raft
that
through
the house
floats
a
boat
shifts
current
violent
fear
steers
north


a
broom
swept clean

a
net kept
collection
shore
dug
sea
worthy




Friday, November 9, 2018

意識 いしき ishiki

なし
without
聴く
listen

this world of tiers, terraces -

we
predict  
generate
control
perception

interoception

interrupting, interfering interior models of

ourselves

"consciousness and organisms are culturally controlled hallucinations"
(Anil Seth)

Thursday, November 8, 2018

the shot




a girl
a boy
the night music
stopped
it's not supposed to be this way
the cool rush of outside air
of horizontal black
that is, a line
somewhere
pushing
through you
and out




Thursday, September 20, 2018

tatami mat
maker
finds
snack baker
used
goods
hawker.

neighborhood
men,
wide aisled,
narrow hipped
with
chipped china edges
sit
gossiping quickly
before
moving
back into the
rain
without umbrellas.

that's age, fellas -
a reed-woven
brown
sound,
bartered
seconds,
spent
news.


Sunday, December 24, 2017

last quarter

last month of

days and nights

wearing away

the body of the year


Sunday, November 12, 2017

Sakai


Aihara-machi (Japanese相原町)

to Sagami Bay

a river

prone to flooding

pressed within

tall walls  (post war)

vesper bats above

leaping carp within

while that slouch, tanuki

patrols

the shoals 


bridge (between)

this third coast
out
beyond
between

の間に

なた     彼方

はし

a middle
amid
balancing.

Friday, November 10, 2017

adrift
aground
wrecked.


sounding - an echo.



here.


again in open water. 

Monday, September 4, 2017

I have failed and failed and failed and failed.


There is no one, no time, no money.


Forgetful. Untruthful. Stubborn.



The world's fool.

Monday, August 21, 2017

s o l a r

one o'clock
sixteen minutes after
silence
no wind


still
seamless

shift

and lighting

s o l a r

noon
faded blue
clouds coming
birdsong but infrequent
12:27 darker
quiet



an entrance

less

a stand

nonetheless

s o l a r


11 a m
dull white sky
cicadas
breeze


a disappearance
wind, but erect
no children
placemarks

s o l a r

10 a m
grey sunlit sky
plum tree shadow on the empty building.
no fruit this year

leaning south

without children

placemarks

Sunday, August 6, 2017

Bells

tell time.

The sun slants.

Small dogs bark.

sic

6
times
four
times
time
times
one
more
day.



Done.






d i s c     o r     s u n     o r    w o u n d e d    m o o n

Living alone, sleeping alone, traveling alone, and resolute, alone and self-disciplined, one should take pleasure in living in the forest.

- 21. 305 Dhammapada



Full moon, seasonably mild.

1

To say aloud
lonely
isn't

solitary 

continues as

swallow, or bat,
above the Sakaigawa
under the rising moon.









Tuesday, August 1, 2017

one week,
two

read thirty things
by creeley

remembered
remembering

changes you.




Monday, July 24, 2017

s i c i l y

She recalled her aunt swaying on the table, high above her, as the temblor struck.

After the earthquake, her grandfather, defiant, took a tarp to the shore, to his fishing boat, and slept there.

Through the night, her family's mountain campfire echoed her grandfather's beach hearth, far below.

Saturday, July 22, 2017

Agrilus  - largest number of species in the animal kingdom about 300


Agrilus cyanescens













Lampyridae  Coleoptera.
















lazuli bunting but an insect
it crawls iridescent on the white floor
or
flies
tipped out into the green garden
wild as a wood.

This lamp-ended beetle
greets me at my door 
as do spiders,
doormen discriminants.

cool air
blue
lit
me
home.

Wednesday, May 3, 2017

Walking

as

river,

moving,

moves

moved,

each

to the field,

into earth

an undertow.