naming it

naming it

the leaves
that had fallen
dry yet rotted
along the vein
rose up on
that wind
danced on
a spiral
scattered
still again.
he old
as old to
his kind,
man,
as the leaves
were to that
tree, a life
lived to its
so tenuous
end,
he saw
that wind
enlivening pebbles

seventeen

seventeen

By Japanese artist Koson Ohara

it’s
reassuring,
cappucino,
how millk
sweetens the
bitter…
the sea
just yards away
where this asphalt
road flittingly
transparent with
raindrop fronts
to the shore,
the sea whisper
you pick out of
waters whispering
along the gutter,
the sea shifting
pebble and shell
in ebb and lift
ebb and lift,
reassuring…
all the grey
morning walking
with the straw-headed

eastern beach

eastern beach

in
a ton
of sun
the islands
floating out
their headlands dark
in tree or summer
spare in grass
on a channel of
sea above the
low tide furl
of wave
islands as though
brought to the
surface from
a richer sea
beached memories
of its tidal
run