Thoughts on Autumn (a micropoetry series)

drifting home
with the autumn leaves
colored into the earth

a spirit dream
as you walk along the lawn
all covered in leaves

this spot where
you stand, molded
like a statue
and chiseled deep
into the earth

my spirit lay
beneath the autumn wind
inside a blanket
of all your colors

thoughts like a net
woven into the fabric of the wind
to capture what little impulse
there is to escape

Farewell to Mystic Mountain

Farewell to Mystic Mountain

Huangfu Ran (~ 716-769)
All day the water flows until it fades, unseen,
At dusk, when grass grows deep in spring and earth recedes—
At times, it’s true, the dogs will bark and chickens squawk,
But who would pull an almond nut from berry seeds?

Fresh Wood (for Luo Xue)

Fresh Wood (for Luo Xue)

Wen Tianxiang (1236-1283)
A sigh, sigh sound from woods up high to low;
We close the gate and cover up with fur—
Spring feelings flow along the mountain gorge;
At dawn I rise to touch and look at her.

Quiet in the Forests of Night

quiet in the forests of night
watching with white eyes
alone in the darkness
waiting for the one
the pond was torn
in ripples that marked the shore
silent as the woods around it—
and the creak of the toads
it was day
the wings yielded movement
in the trees that came alive
and left us behind
flames once wore on us
every night as we walked home—
alone now they’ve withered
with memories made along the road
round and round
on winter grass we’re frozen

Songs of a New Morning

from the shore
where I can see it all
as it floats away
to some other land
where the sun continues to shine
for centuries
and treetops
sway in the wind
filling the grass
with wandering pollen
worn out
like a flag flown
for many years
alone here
where your lips once
had left a mark
I looked up
at the stones
and there opened a path
into the night
lit by torchlight

Together and Lost

together in time
time on a string—
friendship in notes
of what lovers bring
storms and fires
eons of woods
grown over and lost
to sight in the blind
communion of one
rust and battle—
armor left, foregone
on fields for others
to follow this road
in the constant quest
of folly foregone
in others’ arms
one day crowned
anew without a plan—
maps torn and paper burned,

Carry Me Home

rays melt
into the blue light
of another heaven
wind washed
water melts anew
on the blue horizon
of another day
have joined
for morning prayers
looking east
the pages turn
to the wind
where all the blind
begin to see
jigsaw night
among the red and blue—
once more I'm
back together again
sometimes dead as sin—
reborn for another day


Along the stone-tipped buildings, glass reflects
The water ripples flowing near, where home’s
A memory uncorked and lost, complex
As photos seen in every road one roams.
Now winter’s worn the road some fifteen years,
The covered clouds are broken by the sun
And wind-whipped rain blows on till pathways clear
With breath blown in from cold where there is none.
Above looms fog that wafts up from the shrubs
Where herons gather in a game of chance
Along a path where holy men proceed to scrub
The frozen customs free in wartime dance.

Thoughts on Time

the lost art
of statues and colonnades
sketched in time
stars slumber
as the sea water
that rings my feet
light mixed in shade
between the leaves
that line my feet
centuries old
as leaves whisper
on New England stone
another day
she wanders on
without a name


Life continues to move along
Whether you get on or get off
Or sit there by the side
On a bench beneath the shade
To smoke a cigar and watch
The wind blow and the leaves
As they fall in every which way


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