| t e n m i n u t e s o f d a w n |
| ( page 1 ) |
| H A I K U / S E N R Y U |
| BRUNEAU CAIRNS though the clouds are stacked like cairns over Bruneau Dunes... Have we lost our way ? |
Dew of the dead cat left the ghost of his body behind on the road. |
crucifixion is certainly gruesome- though what I hate are the flies... |
| JAPANESE DEATH POEM ...these flies will know me more intimately than any guess could suffice. |
| (c) copyright Louis Pirro & the Bonsai Sake Club 1997-2003 |
the tall dried flowers shudder in a winter breeze- long shadows at night |
I camped a clearcut where atop the razor's edge I see what they saw |
| IDAHO KOAN Monk: "Master, what is Zen?" Master: "Through the dams a salmon returns upstream !" |
Civilization is the fat painted lady rolled in an alley |
| COFFEE KOAN The people walk by... I blow them kisses through the smoke. |
| A HAZE The smog cloaks a crow... It masks the pine and those perfumed; but reveals again my dissatisfaction. |
| THE WASP Monk: "Master, what is Zen?" Master: "Through the flame a wasp returns to it's nest !" |
ten minutes of dawn: the eternity that fuels a world in passage... |
