Bardo

Towards a new life there is terror,
Your soul locked in unnatural sleep,
Paralyzed,
While demons converge
With energetic hate.
They dance,
Twitching their limbs,
To summon you to Hell.
Their grinning, masked faces press close
Daring you to banish them.
The demons are you.

Tanka

Over the tree tops
The crane flies at summer’s end.
Near the quiet lake,
A flute in late afternoon--
Its plaintive sound rises up.

True love appears small
Like a mother’s hand
As it caresses the head of a child
Not large, not grandiose
But refined, hidden almost
Except to those who feel its touch
Then its real magnificence is displayed
And all its power.

O little bird
I have heard you at dawn
When the excitement of day
Made you cry with delight.

O little bird
I have seen you at noon
When in anxious flight
You darted for crumbs.

O little bird
Will you sing to my heart
When the night robs us
And we are left beggars?

Yūgen

A toss of black hair
Down the back of the onnagata
Her powdered face a mask
With painted eyes peering
Over a spreading fan
Her hand points into space
Her lips part for a lover
Her head turns in shyness
What dream is it that
Makes her sway and dance?

Homage to DeChirico

Perspective is everything:
From the piazza, you see with hyperclarity
The descending archways
And the partially eclipsed shadowed
Statue of a man on horseback
Above a sunlit plinth.
But straight ahead stands the rose tower
Against a bluegreen sky
Of eternal dawn or dusk.
Its sharp-edged crenellated parapet
And opaque, dark windows and door
Hold its silent, infinite mystery close.

Unexpected,
When, in the hot sun of the afternoon,
You turn to see an old brick building
Baking in heat
Its rose color shimmering
Its windows dark and impenetrable
And suddenly you realize
Eternity,
There, right there, on the noisy city street.