Postcard to Manhattan
I drifted south to follow the call of birds,
Then hunted around my former haunting grounds
Out west, where all was won with sand-swept words,
I think, once in the red-baked canyon towns.
In the wind somewhere I hear a whistling stone
And stop at the bar along the canyon end;
The moon is always high when drinking alone,
But it’s peaceful now while watching the river bend.
For the Reminiscing General
The General went fore, a prisoner of war,
Enchained at the enemy’s behest;
But now he’s back, the dust is slack,
With wine I greet my guest.
We sing in verse of skies and birds,
Forbidding a barrack word;
With spring before, we leave the war
And howls of night unheard.
But peaceful strolls leave generals no role:
The King alone we know;
To climb up high you weary your thighs,
But gaze at your sword and go.
A Brief Ode to Hood
moments
Each day
giving thanks
Little Red Peach
Red as a peach with a smile on her face,
Face with a smile as a peach in her place.
Willow that hangs and shakes its drapery low,
Low is the willow that hangs as wind does flow.
Waves the blossom as wind and hair entwine,
Entwines the hair and wind, this blossom of mine.
Roams the road as the moon sinks west,
West sinks the moon where the road roams best.
After “Reckless Spirit” (Barbarian Bodhisattva) by Liu Dao (1511-1598)
Flight
It was a beautiful night for flying
To spread my wings and feel the
Is it so hard?
Mercy,
Is it so hard to give?
When someone's whole world is pain,
Why would you force them to live?
Respect,
Is it so hard to show?
We're all in this together,
If you don't like it, please go.
Anger,
Is it so hard to ignore?
Take a deep breath,
Do you still feel like before?
Violence,
Is it so hard to refrain?
If you don't understand this,
Then I can't explain.
first love
at peace
They're Coming!
Knock on the roof
Non dimentico il passato
Non trascuro il presente
Non temo il futuro
Vivo
Words lost in wind, we shout above
smashing of windows
rise star of danger, sky burning,
take your place in the firmament
knock on my roof
trapped in the enclave
behind the lines
morning uncovers rubble, crunching,
how can you love the spring
the morgues are full
dead children in ice cream cabinets
your bed is a trench, house a coffin,
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