(or Aladdin with his lamp—)

must I hurry so?

THE SNOW ON SADDLE MOUNTAIN

The only thing that can be relied on

is the snow on Kurakake Mountain.

fields and woods

thawing, freezing, and thawing,

totally untrustworthy.

it’s true, a great fuzzy windstorm

like yeast up there today, still

the only faint source of hope

is the snow on Kurakake mountain.

SPRING AND THE ASHURA

From the ash-colored steel of images:

akebia tendrils coil round clouds,

wildrose thicket, swampy leafmold—

everywhere a pattern of flattery

(amber splinters flooding down

thicker than woodwinds at noon)

the bitter taste of anger, the blueness.

at the depths in the brilliance of this april air

spitting, gnashing, pacing back and forth

I am an Ashura!

(the scene gets blurred by tears)

smashed bits of cloud cross my vision,

a holy crystal wind sweeps

the translucent sea of the sky.

Zypressen—one line of spring

blackly draws in ether,

—through those dark footsteps

the edge of the mountain of heaven shines.

(the shimmering mist, white polarization)

the true words are lost.

turn, clouds flying

ah, in the radiant depths of april

gnashing, burning, wander

I am one of the Ashuras:

(chalcedony clouds flowing

where is that singing, that spring bird?)

Sun Wheel shimmering blue

ashura echoing in the forest

heaven’s bowl giddily tilting over

clusters of giant coal-fern stretch up toward it.

pitifully dense—those branches

this whole double scene.

flash of a crow flapping

up from a treetop

—spiritless woods—

—the atmosphere clearer and clearer

cypress trees standing to heaven

in a dead hush—

a thing in the golden meadow:

just a person.

farmer wearing a straw cape looking at me

can he really see me

at the bottom of this shining sea of air?

blue over blue, deepening my sadness.

zypressen silently quivering

bird again cuts the blue

(my real feelings are not here

ashura tears on the ground)

breathing anew       in the sky

lungs faintly contracting

(this body totally dispersed

mixed with the atoms of space)

twigs of a gingko still reflecting

cypress blacker and blacker

sparks of cloud pour down.

NOTE

Ashura is a Sanskrit Buddhist term for beings inhabiting one of the six realms of existence. They are malevolent giants in constant strife, often represented in art as human warriors, samurai, killing each other. The ashura realm is the warring, contentious, hostile area of the mind. The other five realms are hell-dwellers, hungry ghosts, animals, mankind, and devas.

CLOUD SEMAPHORE

Ah, it’s great! clear—clean—

wind blowing

farm tools twinkling

vague mountains

—lava-plug       magma

all in a dream where there’s no time

when cloud semaphores

were already hung

in the stark blue east

the vague mountains …

wild geese will come

down to the four

cedars tonight!

THE SCENE

Clouds volatile as carbonic acid

blossoming cherries glow in the sun

wind comes again over the grasses

clipped tara trees tremble

—just finished spreading manure

in the sandy loam

now it’s all a picture in cobalt glaze.