Shocking, all the things 

my body can do 

that I can't...

Rainy days shoelaces, traffic lights - They know.

Songbird way up in the sky - saw sunrise first

ODE TO THE POTATO

O homely spud
muddied orphan
lumpish ragamuffin
from the far side of the furrows,
poor relation to noble Eggplant
Cardinal Tomato
Magical Mandrake
and elegant Belladonna,
though often mistaken
for a clod of dirt
you have a soul as pure
as any Irish saint's -
you send up for blossoms
white stars from the ground.

O subterranean emissary
earth-ivory
friend to the poor
when helped from your homespun jacket
you are welcomed as well
by the well-to-do
who love your symphonies of starch
your crisp gold coins,
invite you to their tables
as formal white companion
to the tawny mignon.

O egalitarian tuber
like us you are a child of earth,
that yet contains the stuff of heaven -
when mashed into clouds
with a bit of cream,
the peaks you achieve
from such lowly beginnings
nourish and inspire us all.

NANAO ON THE BIG ROAD

Heard in late December that traveler Nanao had left the local pathways; took me a while to find this poem of mine about one night on his life's journey. Walk in peace, Nanao.

Nanao at Ashuzan

Smiles wide.
And often.
Long hair, gray beard
growing white,
firelit eyes
turning now and then toward the stars.
Cold mountain night
woolen hat
homespun clothes
rubber boots.
Sake Cup in hand
long-fingered
hunkers down by lanternlight
before the forest cabin
banters easy with the children
up straddling the drying racks.
Slow quiet--
wind rustle
fire crackle
stream sounds.
Begins to talk of Snyder
reads a long walk they took once
up the Kamogawa
in Kyoto.
Speaks on of light years
of simplicity
leading to now and beyond,
sipping
smiling
sitting simply, traveling
the eternity of birth
pathvoice
for this fireside of faces
of the ever going on.

--Nov. 1, 1986

[Published in Kyoto Journal # 2]
Last time I saw Nanao...

[w/tks to Ken Rodgers.]

afternoon wind -

things that lie still

talk in big whispers

First snow - one by one
nanten berries turn
into hungry birds

Hawks circling
on the high winds
as souls do

[These are the days of Obon]

BASHO UPDATE

furu-ike ya
kawazu tobikomu
keitai no oto

[ancient pond

frog jumps

cell phone sound]