The alleys are empty of people.
Soup, tea and spring rolls
left untouched.
So run away, clouds.
And light sticks of incense.
To salvage another soul.
And in the blue town of my eyes.
Someone notices my words.
And the road to nowhere disappears.

In the agony,
walking along
the gray cold streets.
I saw dark rice and
falling cherry blossoms.
And a single bird,
silent – hanging in the wind.
Darker than the mind’s eye.
I knew then, that there
was nothing to follow.
And nothing to doubt.

Forward and back.
So many feelings.
So many memories.
In her breath,
a springtime moon.
In her tears,
cherry blossoms fell.
But on a journey ill,
she passed.
As all things do.

 
Spring sunlight stir,
sipping sweet syrup.
Each step, the birth of
an awful promise.
Just move past footprints.
Above the moon shines,
and the lotus blooms.
I cup my ears,
to hear the first cuckoo call.
A cool breeze,
sweeps my path.

 
I like women’s day.
The one day many men
and dream lovers,
respect women.
For more than
the curves on her body,
and the size of her
dress or jean size.
In cities and towns,
when a woman is around –
we walk a wider path.
Sing now,
for peace with hands.
And the smile of that girl
who became a woman.

Walking on the streets.
How mindful,
how saddening.
An autumn gust
coming to an end.
The night is coming-
and I need a resting place?
A winter wrap,
to recall a bygone glory.
Over a field of death,
plum fragrance.

Let’s go, let’s go
and pick up the pieces
of the bamboo grove.
Just say yes, say yes
and we can stroll
around the pond.
Or visit tombs
under the bright moon.
Still both the
sky and sea.

Amid flowers
lush and green.
A road so long.
The sky tightly bound,
the mountains
still coming round.
But always the thorns.
What shall I do
with the thorns?
The one I love
in not there.

Don’t ask how
I am these days.
The lotus lantern parade
passed-by years ago.
Your lipstick,
is no longer my taste.
And the phone on
my camera,
no longer works.
In anycase, life is
not possible
without discarding.
Today again I am sad.
But still, not tempted
by the shiny apple.
And death does
not forgive everything.

 
I saw you,
sitting in the lamplight.
Your arms open for love.
Spring rain drizzling.
The smell of baking cakes,
gently rising up.
A morning glory.
Until the fall wind,
and all the flowers
have faded.