wondering at him

White rain
On the eaves of the corner house
Forms into beads.

There is a sound in the wind:
A dog making water.




Even in the spring mists
One hears the sound of water
Trickling through the rocks.

Yamazaki Sōkan

of the open air dream

Jasmine bloom and butchered bull.
Endless paving. Map. Room. Harp. Dawn.
The girl feigns a jasmine bull
and the bull’s a bleeding sunset, bellowing.

If the sky were a tiny child,
half the jasmines’ night would be darkness,
the bull a blue arena without matadors,
and a heart at the foot of a column.

But the sky’s an elephant,
and jasmine bloodless water.
The girl’s a bough by night
on the huge dark paving.

Between the bull and the jasmine
either marble claws or people sleeping.
In the jasmine, an elephant and clouds
and in the bull the girl’s skeleton.

Federico Garcia Lorca

spring 1686

The old pond!
a frog leap into –  
List, the water sound!

Matsuo Bashō


The snow of yesterday
that fell like cherry petals
is water once again.


sec. 40

Only fools and not the wise
love what they cannot have.
Who but a child seeks to grasp
the moon as it shines in water?



Boarding the boat
I slip off my shoes:
moon in the water.