Flâneur
Doing nothing is hard to do. The something closest to doing nothing is walking. Viewed from this perspective, a walk is not just good creative exercise. It’s a form of protest against buying and selling, against goal-directed busyness. It’s an autonomous march in opposition to the stream of conformity.
full moon floats downward
morning crows face the rabbit
edo unaware
amida buddha
saxaphone crying
suffering retreats
red rutted back road
wild dogs scramble and howl
orion rises
expectant city
new crown rises and seeks
ume blossoms fall
duck swimming easy
old man pockets full of bread
ripples move to shore
he waits serenely
coins tossed clank and clink and roll
rain washes over
summer grass slumbers
warming wind rushes over
roots tingle quiver
heavy winter air
sunlit finch pecks at insects
the golden hour
naked sycamore
sun awakens from long sleep
wind admonishes
dirt full of iron
pink dog lies in the shadow
tuktuk scares up dust
open mouthed flower
black bumble pushes inside
sunset comes quietly
ripples on a pond
fountains of water rush in
crows bathe their dark wings
leaves cover cold earth
harsh shadows fall through soft light
doves poke peck poke peck
pink lotus blossom
hands rest quiet upon it
summer retreats without care
darkened room in night
spider spins into the light
predator retreats
under lowered sun
sweet olive announces change
dry ground rustles now
weary cherry tree
leaves fall and rustle away
now there is quiet