Buson Haiku

On the great bell

Stops a butterfly

And sleeps.

Buson

Other, Shadow & Weaver

I am afraid, said the Swiss girl, of becoming the Stranger, the Other.

The Other. I am Other said Shadow. Outsider.

I'm afraid of always being the Other, she said.

Why? said Shadow.

It's fear I suppose, it's difficult to articulate. It's a sense of feeling apart, separate from people.

I know it, Shadow said, I'm like that. I live on the edge. I engage. I am vulnerable, open, honest maintaining a sense of detachment.

How is it this sense of outside? she said.

It's objective, he said.

Shadow felt her vision escape toward the weaver at her loom creating her meditation.

I am the shuttle sliding across threads, Weaver said. I am smooth aged wood holding two bobbins. One is golden silk thread, the other purple.

As I slide threads bobbins spin at the speed of light releasing, ah all the releasing, letting go of myself trailing into and between thin black origins - the essence where I rest.

Weaver cautions Shadow with her fingers - purple and golden desires lie tight. She pulls her emptiness toward me, hands and feet.

I feel connected, said Weaver.

I am bound to Others before me.

I wait for Others to join me.

I am part of the whole. Part of the grand design inside her dream.

I pass through. I am not dreaming. I am here and now.

Basho Haiku

That soon they will die

Is unknown

To the chirping cicadas.

Basho

 

Ink Dances

Rain forest song
Ink dances
What you don't see is fascinating

Rivers of children memorize texts
Listening/speaking predates writing/reading

I can do it. Enthusiastic. Feeling sound pre-language
Drum heart beat
Dancing Lao doctor gestures sky arms feeling free
*
Young pregnant sick H'mong wife
Husband eats soup
We pay pay pay
Me only one
Tired

Shiki

Without my journey

And without the spring,

I would have missed this dawn.

Shiki