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Posts Tagged ‘pond’

 

 

in the relentless drought,

finding inside me

a pond somehow still present,

an unstoppable,

insistent spring

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An Afternoon with Basho

Basho sits beside the hut.

He notices the pond, the frog, the sound
made by the frog.

He does not write about it yet. He watches
for a long time. A cherry blossom falls.

He listens to the sound the water makes
without the frog.

The sound a page makes without a poet.

Again. The frog. Again. Plop.

He sees himself a man wrapped around
a silence.

Perhaps you have heard it, too, the sound
the water makes before it speaks.

Perhaps you, too, have felt it,
the loneliness, the light.

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