Lake; the noble Sugi—a tree as great as Redwood, Douglas

Fir, Sequoia, Red Cedar, Sugar Pine.

(To hell with all these cultures—history

after the Jurassic is a bore.       Sugi like Sequoia;

Hinoki like a cedar)

Light wind, warm May sun & old woman bundling

brush by the trail—

men planing beams in a cool tin-roof shed

for the new Shaka-dō—fine double-edged saws

hand worn brush-hooks

battered jikatabi, funny breeches, cotton head-things

like the Navajo—

relit cigarette butts, sturdy walkers—hills and trails

of rocks and trees and people.

Quiet grey-wood copper-roofed old temple.       Down

and off into the Ogi village fields, and on along

steep ridges through bamboo brush to Ohara, Jakko-in.

Jizo there with his bug-scare clanker staff

(Night ride America; thin-lipped waitress whores—)

June

students listen to the tapes—

Miss Nunome in a green dress

she usually wears something open at the neck a dab.

Yamada-kun who can’t look or answer straight

yet seems not stupid

“A nap is ‘provisional sleep’”

Blue jumper on a white blouse (Miss Yokota)

car honks outside

Pink fur sunset

Miss    ?    in a crisp white pleated skirt falling in

precise planes—her cheeks ruddy with rouge

“people call her ‘Janie’”

“people collar Janie”

Van Gogh print on the wall: vase of flowers all yellow

& tawny.

Sun setting on Atago Mountain

“strength   strap   strand   strut   struck

strum   strung   strop   street   streak”

“cord   ford   gorge   dwarf   forth   north

course   horse   doors   stores   dorm   form

warp   sort   short   sport   porch”

pingpong game in the hall

Motorcycle rumbles in the streets—

horns—dark nights rain up sudden on the tin bar

roof next door

“try tea   buy ties   weigh Tim   buy type

flat tea   bright ties   greet Tim   met Tess

stout trap   wet trip   right track   light tread

high tree   Joy tries   gay trim   fry tripe”

Why that’s old Keith Lampe’s voice, deep & clear

“ripples   battles   saddles   doubled   dazzled

wondered   hammered   eastern   western   southern”

Language torn up like a sewer or highway

& layed out on text

Page and tape.

July

kicking through sasa

bear grass bamboo

pass into thickets,

dowse a wand knocking down spider

net us on all sides

sticky and strong

chirrr; semi

hangs under       bamboo leaf

in the heat

sweat

kick through sasa

snaking uphill in thickets

below, taro

terraces down to the beach.

swim among mild red jellyfish

a woman pickt shells, stoopt over

bare breasted

kneedeep in seaweed rocks

her two boys

play in the tall cliff

shade

cross away.

from bamboo to pínegrove

three axes

someone

naps under a tree

August

night       town of lights

at sea

unpainted rough prowed squid fishers

boats with their gas mantle lamps

miles off shore.

counted two hundred.

wind curls on the salt-

sticky chest, caked ribs

sticky sea

day dodging sun

zigzagging barefoot

on blistering rocks

to dive, skim under reefs

down along ledges

looking for oysters or snails

or at fish

night without blanket

sleeping on sand.

the

squid-fisher lights,

one-lung four-cycle engines