(photo) in Kichijouji, Tokyo, japan
apples
with the same name
as the mountain in my home town
To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour. Auguries of Innocence William Blake
The wind has just stopped―
still swaying slightly
Two travelling salesmen
Passing each other ―
A big answer―
The black cat on my
Cool empty stomach
Ancient ancient world―
The sound of human voices
Was as still as moon
Jun is the season
When the white flowers coming out ―
GAZA 2009
The poem isn’t here.
So this is not a poem.
Where is the poem?
In the sticking?
In the spilling-out?
In the opening?
The poem isn’t here.
Woman's eyes
A collapsing back
Scattered sandals
The silence of the sky
I cannot
laugh,
lament,
sing,
or feel anger.
Snow in the night
is dizziness.
The Galaxy in winter
is tinnitus.
Outside
I think about the time for no one.
It comes out in flowers
and vanishes in rain.
It doesn’t bring any results or any causes.
It’s outside every meaning.
I think I know
the time for no one is
for Creator’s laughing.
We can only hear it
in the trembling of wisteria flowers.
We can only see it
when a frog jumps into the pond.