Alphabet of Days (26)
26.
Zen garden, on my table at the top of the stairs,
with its wave of sand, swells the moment
as though the weight of rock that isn’t there,
is there, and what I touch – a life away from Tofuku-ji –
is the slow silence of the maw around my head
2 comments:
this is breathtaking, sam. just love the feel of that rock that isn't there being there.
does this mean you've written other 25 poems for this series?
a.
Thanks for the good words, Arlene.
At this point, I have 22 or 23 in the series that are finished-- or at least are close to being finished.
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