Residue of pleasure

In the sky is heard
a blue-magpies voice.
Such freshness in
this dense sorrow.
A fable that is
light and humorous.
The streets cannot be lonely
deep within its warmth.
Even the winter sun breaks
through the strands of damp.
And the bright moon,
half- soaked with pain.
Feels neither joy nor sorrow.
But is once again able to
find the road home.

The sky calling

The world at our backs.
The foreign birds in hiding.
Feeding on their bitter
tears and lost causes.
And everybody is wondering.
Does this place allow love?
Not a deep dramatic
role to be found.
It is not easy.
But I look on your eyes.
and I can do better.
Whenever we talk, we embrace.
A reunion of souls.
And when we kiss,
a love of nakedness and lust.
Hearts wedded to the
turning sky and borrowed
seed that leaps inside.
Let us live in our
collective memory.

Zen Life Poem #26

I stand alone
with all the common
states of mind.
And the devil that
poetry brings.
Through red sunlight
blue rain falls.
Warmer than the
winds of winter.
Towards the east
a jade hall opens.
A cool and cleansing joy.
Once again doctrines
are never sound.
And thick creepers
cover the old walls.

Fearful of the sky

The foreign birds are
fearful of the sky.
They are fearful of the river
and choose to play
hide-and-seek with the
phases of the moon.
Barefoot in the cold
they huddle together
and run slant.
Almost in Orion’s grasp.
But I have you.
Pulling me in a sweet direction.
with lips open in sweet surrender.
And then I moan and move on
without any regrets or fear.

Upon the wayside grass

​Both the silent
​and those with voice.
​Are but drops of dew.
​Unable, and unwilling
​to transform themselves
​into the blue clouds.
​I seek not the vestibule
​to paradise.
​But a mind to grasp
​this infinite nothingness.
​And a soul to touch
​you once again.

Small clouds of love drift by

​When day broke
​I looked outside.
​The sky was not praised.
​The morning birds
​were not praised.
​And I was left alone again.

​I saw a single magpie,
​a stone in its beak.
​Still trying to talk of
​spring freedom and
​firebirds that soar.

​Well then, I’ve lived for ages.
​And my ears remember
​the ocean’s echoes.
​And in the spring to come.
​I will meet you again.
​Moment by moment
​this is the way.

A cool wind blows

​I heard that everyone
​goes on this road.
​It’s miserable to imagine that.
No flowers and no
fruit to produce.
I think I will choose
a different road.
One with a raging fire
and the magpies flying high.
I will wonder what to do
with the rest of my life.

A love letter sent with the wind

The magpie laughs
in the half-madness between us.
Tell me what has happened here?
Clothes are wet with the blue air.
As the voice of the torrent
attempts to subdue
the dragons of desire.
But I think of such
pleasures still to come.
Of a quiet calm before
I look at your body again.
Every finger on the right note.
Everything in its own pleasure.

This invisible enemy

A sudden lurch
urged me to rest
and shut my life.
Lazily highlighting
a defensive stance.
But paired with the pen
and the whistle of love.
I will not yield to
this docile glance.
But embrace the warmth
of this mundane time.
Today is a good day to live.

Shadows of the inner soul

The envious water
obscures the silver sky.
Pitching us all into darkness.
As cherry-bloom lie scattered
on the empty streets.
Once full of life
But fading in a moment.
Yet, even through the gloom
I see the golden beams.
That never cease their glow.
To know the path of
love and travelling,
Enough to take me beyond
this home of nothingness.