SO FRESH A FACE
sequence of haiku/senryu
water-lily
rooted in the pond's mud
shows so fresh a face
jazz musician
90 years old and smiling
tinkles the marimbas
two conga drums --
thin friend leans
toward fat friend
meeting at the window
indoor tree and outdoor tree:
different shades of green
childish thinking? --
unwilling to hack down
the flowering weed
maple left behind.
never again to burn
such brilliant leaves
patch on the hillside
blackened, fire-charred grass
no, wait -- cloud-shadow!
at the stop sign
seeing under-purple
in the curb-side ivy
step down
into the hot-tub
scattering the moon
¤ ¤ ¤
FROM THE ASHBERYAN
We'll start with two (stained-red) redwood doors
and enlist this thing called "the subject"; or say
meat from exacting salami slicers,
unshucked constraints of the body-skin.
But let's pass on from that, returning
joy to the words. Send them off on vacation!
(to make the point Beethovenistically).
No shrubs were abused in this travelogue.
The trick's in a solacing touch of détente
as when dressing your hero in underwear
pathetic with holes. Not even a saint
could admire the Babushka's style at covert
vodka sales (though it's cool she survives).
Myself, I'd never require Sir Priest
to ditch my plumbing, the beauty Calista
to batter my clothes on the river stones.
But this rainforest-mist, now: how can it share
in our plotted action, its syllables
so soaked clear through? Wait, wait, I know! --
we'll hang out our lined-yellow tablets as flags.
¤ ¤ ¤
PINPRICKS: THE PITH TEACHINGS OF LAMA TSERING
"Do you know how it feels to be popcorn popping?
Hard yellow kernels transformed by heat
soften, go fluffy, loft, soar.
some jump right out of the pot!"
*
"The endlessly changing display of the clouds...
the perfectly changeless sky."
*
"It is older than the wind.
it is like my blood to me.
Or put it another way: once you're ready
to catch, a pitcher will appear."
*
"At a pinprick for light, find the angle to see
through that tiniest hole: all light, all beauty."
