Thoughts for a Girl in High Country (day 1717)

If a robin came and sang to me
For you I’d wish my ears to be
Lifting lightly with a thousand sprouts
The reddest ribbons of my soul.

If a sparrow circled above my gaze
For you I’d wish it’s wings to be
Spring is here as I’d look out
Along the valley, home at last.

If a bluejay held it’s head up high
About the post up in the sky
For you I’d wish a seat beside
Ever last, a Queen, my pride.

Gold in My Heart (day 1271)

This golden light shines from above,
With a randsom note for two saviors I know.
I’m afraid to think of how they’ll go,
Because I’m wise enough to know they’ll say:
“A thousand plans don’t make a man.”

Free me, my heart yells free me
My soul speaks of freedom
My eyes are wide.
Free me, my heart yells free me
My windows are gleaming
Like golden inside me.

I’ve been straddling here with two ears to the wind,
Like a rambling band, it would seem old skin.
There’s a sad song I keep humming out loud,
To go along with this hour of magnificent doubt;
I’ve decided to pray for my heart today.

Free me, my heart yells free me
My soul speaks of freedom
My eyes are wide.
Free me, my heart yells free me
My windows are gleaming
Like golden inside me.

A gypsy woman that I sent away,
Came back again with some more to say.
I wasn’t wise so I let her stay.
To my soul’s demise, I have been led astray,
But to my open eyes, I’ve never cried before.

Free me, my heart yells free me
My soul speaks of freedom
My eyes are wide.
Free me, my heart yells free me
My windows are gleaming
Like golden inside me.

Day Catcher (day 1122)

My water buffalo languishes,
He stumbles and wears lollipops
In his big ears.
Like fountains and mountains
And entropy in the wind,
Like envelopes and cantaloupes
On my mothers antique oak.
I droop with my succulent.
I hang out to dry
On an island in the sun
With passing blossoms
Scalloped to catch rain.

Night’s Delicate Dance (day 976)

Maybe we balanced our cross-hairs when we sent our whispers into night’s air.
A long, hollow howl,
A song to our own dainty ears,
Wishing for night to tarry while bringing us sleep

Footsteps reaching horizons edge, so evenly spaced so late in the day.
How did we manage,
How many words were pure thoughts,
Lingering ’bout our hesitant breaths like foxglove in the summer.

My moon silhouetted your name-sake tree, standing afar tall and proud.
Bloodline crawls down stony steps to waters edge,
Breaking off into still, deep black abyss
Waiting to find another whisper.

The Fifth (day 841)

There were five impressions there that day
Two belonged to the Emperor King
Child though he was, vast was his arm
One belonged to the lady tea dealer
Powdered face and blood red kimono
Shimada and the Golden Lotus
Black trim like a bleeding matchbox
The fourth belonged to the fat man Hojiju
Business tycoon but despicable patron
Beard so long it caught fallen crumbs
A neck so indulged it sweat on its own
A stomach sized so large it was custom made
His breath so grotesque nearby flowers wilted

And the fifth, sigh.. the fifth
Well, the fifth is a story
Designed for only respectable ears
Those ears entirely ready to be cured
To be enlightened upon a new journey
Through and over finer paths in life
Along shallow waters edge
Where the spring tips of sakura blood
Flutter in the wind to float on away

The fifth is a story of love and then lost
A heart that danced so lightly on lilies
In the sweet summers pond, so lively with life
A story of silent bicycles rolling through
Low hanging lanes of public parks
Along delightful gardens intricately cared for
Dazzling with brilliant colors
Like a van Gogh day lit dream

And when love effects them
When love finds it’s sacred ground amongst
Great boulder rocks and tiny bonsai
When love settles the folds of a deep blue kimono
Flushing the face free of all blood
With tender thoughts of a young brides countenance
Then, at that moment is when the fifth enters
Along with its strong jawed suitor
In new business formal

But it wasn’t there that the fifth stopped its journey
A sleek rickshaw and a sturdy set of legs
Cobbly streets and dimly lit alleys
Hushed movements behind closed rice paper dividers
And sandals displayed in all sorts of hurry
Emotions rolling down the window like raindrops in the night
Comforting morning departures, comforting silence
Comforting ebb and flow, engagement
Rolling through like smoke
From a freshly extinguished candle
Escaping out through ill-fitting woodwork
Of ancient architecture
And passing through the heart of a lamenting maiden
Deep amongst the last haiku
Beside tokens with memories
Beneath bamboo thatched covers
Protected by fine silken layers

Here lies the fifth
Forbidden from all eyes but two
Forbidden from all hearts but one
Forbidden from all souls but one
Forbidden and almost forgotten
But sacred, and coveted
And lost

photo-6
Photo: Kana Yamashita

Pushing Defeat (day 792)

I am pushing away my talents into a pit full of defeat
Losing my sense of touch as I turn off my eyes and shut out my ears

I am managing my vices into small little pockets
Keeping them close to reap what I fancy while ignoring the pangs

I am losing my stability that once held my shoulders back and head high
As I slouch forward at my torture all day passing wisdom into ignorant ears

I am glass without even a foggy decay bouncing about the oceans surf
No message, no inside, not even a small culture clinging to the rough edges

I am falling into the lost pages of all the dusty books
Pressed flat to be a disconnected memory with a faint lingering scent

But alas, I am a strong thought late at night when all else settles down
When the moon rises and coyotes howl and the sheets rumple at thy feet

Anderson the Tender and Marianda Hamphretta Dalsento (day 753)

Mom, will I ever be able to fly?
-no dear, you do not have any wings
But, you can climb better than any bird

Mom, will I ever learn to sing a song?
-no dear, not like the birds that you hear
But, sounds you can make is music to my ears

Mom, are we really the devil’s animal?
-no dear, not anything near to it
But, it will do you good to be cautious of your ways

Mom, will I ever become bad and devil like?
-no dear, you’re heart will always be where you place it
But, that is not to say you can not become

Mom, will this tree always be our home?
-no dear, humans will cut these trees soon
But, we will move on and build a new home

Mom, will I always stay this small?
-no dear, you will grow up to be a very fine sloth
But, you must remember to eat your vegetables to ensure it

Mom, can we stay here for a while?
-yes dear, I like it just where we are

aSloth

Anderson and Marianda can be purchased here.