Raindrops (day 2708)

Sounds of raindrops break my consciousness
For I want to explore your body as if I’m exploring the forest
I want to bend underneath your limbs
And with my eyes search for usnea that grows so delicately from your branches.
As I step into a clearing, my nose so inspired
I will smell each of your scents, one by one
Until I can recognize, sight unseen, your every emotion.
I want to feel the damp moss growing around your belly
And tug gently so I can hear little tendons flexing at my pull.
I want to squeeze when I find your roots
For they shall startle me with rawness and give me cause to lift my knees,
And here, as I squeeze so gently, I shall watch your lips as they subtly quiver
As if blowing wildly in gusts of wind.
And then I shall fall gently into the sweet creek flowing from your nether regions
That shall sweep me away down a trail I have never explored before.

Still Life in the Window (day 1970)

Raindrops set the mood
On an open Thursday night,
Songs reverberated callusedly
Against a faint rattle
Hardly heard under the crash
Of elephant hoof raindrops
Where the marksman’s twang
Nearly captured,
Patiently awaiting amidst a
Two pane dust memory
With a perfect view
Of empty hopes;
A thin cobblestone path
Weaves its way
Amidst falling whitewashed fencepoats
And tufts of sheep fodder
With eager gumboots
Avoiding eye contact
With our token warrior
Next to a thimble and needle
And a postcard received yesterday.

Push Me (day 1151)

Push me.
Push twilight hours into dark corners
That swim amongst nevermore, nevermore.
Push my symbols into vertical black lines
Twisting about blurred vision scapes.
Push elephant hoof raindrops
Deep within my exposed and crackling skin.
Push out spring bloom’s beauty
Like a healthy garden explodes.
And if the camping hustlers deny
Engulfing catalytic tremors,
Then I shall be forced with all my might
To push my crows to vigor.

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

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Photo: Kana Yamashita