From the series, Japan Poems.
Empty streets beckon
to breed favored solitude
among vagrant dreams.

From the series, Japan Poems.
Empty streets beckon
to breed favored solitude
among vagrant dreams.

From the series, Japan Poems.
Dilapidation a stunning aphrodisiac
for the soul hopelessly in love
with time’s obscene touch
and lusting after erosion
as a blatant course
of conjugal intimacy.

From the series, Japan Poems.
The old water pump
remixing Basho’s pond frog
makes a vivid splash.

From the series, Japan Poems.
Summer day, parched plants–
Kettled filled with cold water
borne by the old man.

From the series, Japan Poems.
It is true, you know–
I fall in love too easily
with the grayday jazz
of blue rustscabbed stairways
entreating vision and lore
to initiate a dream sequence
worthy of ghostly passage
without tracks or due cause.

From the series, Japan Poems.
The value of grief
and mercy
intersecting where metaphors
are left behind
to green and thrive
and assume the tendered form
of a lonely doll
wide-eyed in its longing
to touch the ruptured pinwheel
the space between them
bearing the inestimable cost
of desire
and loss.

From the series, Japan Poems.
Out in verdant woods
mercy assembles to reign
with unerring calm.

From the series, Japan Poems.
Find us, they seem to say.
Where we are not
is the rootless breadth of our location,
the unassailable gist of our lore
emptying out to dreams
among the force of all things moving.

From the series, Japan Poems.
Among the hallowed assembly
of serene countenances and stillness
humble rabbit bows down
supplicating not only for mercy
but to hear the laughter of the lost children
resounding endlessly in a forest of echoes
and lasting love.

Symmetry, like water,
finds its own level,
enabled by many nodes
of manifest grace,
from cheerful stone
to worn velveteen faith.
