Rushing to a reading
of the nondual dharma
Water drips slowly
from the folds of my umbrella
Jomyo laughs so hard he cries
Rushing to a reading
of the nondual dharma
Water drips slowly
from the folds of my umbrella
Jomyo laughs so hard he cries
Ten yen too few
for the sunlight that bows
with me at the feet
of Dainichi Nyorai
eyes creaking open all these years
Winter’s wake ends
here in Imperial Park
lips to dark night air
earth rises to hem in sky
as spring stirs in humid sleep
Rains slick Shijo street:
camellia petals clog
barrel full gutters
Plum blossoms cry crimson
on moss covered branches
Murky spring warmth
sneaks out from winter’s long seams
the end at its source.
Turning slowly at a stop light
a dump truck’s blue mixing barrel
Blackness of pine
untouched by sunbeams that pass
through still frigid air
Fallen clouds on mountain tops
last traces of yesterday
What’s left of last year
floods sidewalks and melts the eaves
steady the droplets
a cluster of persimmons
seen through branches newly bared
Mountain rim to sky
orange leaves illuminated by
puffy clouds parting
rival now the green moss ground
still infused with morning’s dew
Pyracantha sprays
lean out over dusty earth
and dissolve in ocean waves
A thousand berries bursting
in unpopped eternity