Following Bashō’s Narrow Walk Into the Interior
Take a moment to
Remember the poet who
Passed here long ago
Much was made of it
So much that it disappeared
This is all that’s left
Not saying goodbye
An ineluctable truth
Not moving moves me
No one can stop it
The world eases out a cloud
Now everyone believes me
I follow ant muse
As it moves across the page
Into this poem
Can it now be told?
Perfect day. Wind dividing
Summer from autumn
Memory made real
Embracing last rays of sun
Something you once said
Sun opens its eye
Day radiates elongates
This is all I know
Unripe persimmons
Wafting in the cooling breeze
I sit and I watch
Persimmons falling
My old body follows the
Good old daily grind
Sweat drops on journal
It’s a long trek this fall day
No time to read or write
Up among mountains
Fall fog dampens, colors fade
The road never ends
Zen garden selfie
My eyes can’t bear to focus
Brown leaf on gray stone
There is Emptiness
& then there is Emptiness
Surrounding itself
White water-filled spheres
Floating in a rock garden
Ah! Whose dream is this?
Painting turns into
River turns into clouds that
Turn into painting
Backward just in time
Forward into the unknown
Chrysanthemum leaf
Look quickly before
Someone comes by and says stop
Then write it all down