1721
5.289
16.x.24
here to be in
no hurry
for Kassia
slow is the general idea
take a first step to be where you are
always half way of half way
and half way there
give praise for what is
not what’s to imagine
take note
and make this pause
with yours
see how impediments have fallen away
breathe
and know you do
the mountain summits me
I survive
here we are then
telling the way
to be in no hurry
slow is the general idea
1720
5.288
15.x.24
out in it
mind drifts
hear the pilgrim bells
it’s just the weight of
days we carry
conversation for a stream
as well
head drifts here
one follows
to cross again again
speech of the stream is
with us still
the way instructs us
it dapples me, the light
there are times the cloud
creeps up
is all afoot
as creature
tells
up through the bones
or in my head
the elsewhere leads
I start with a shirt the
way takes
it give me a hat instead
where having been before
makes nimble
that’s rhythm where we
were
we are
are we?
there are times you’ll
feel you’re not here
or should not be
pinch nothing
it’s just the weight of
days to carry
they wash away in the
next breeze
they slough like a skin
in the stream
and the river
is speaking round us
says
be where you are
don’t stay
1719
5.287
14.x.24
the future is our secret arrangement
we keep it close
tell no one
all kinds of things may
be predicted but
it’s quite a way to
come into my world
with no guarantees,
if at all
you’ve climbed this far,
reached a peak
had a moment
the future, too, will
be everywhere
just as far as that goes
these are the ruins of
what was
the true parts must lie
under
though it will come
it’s to distract
despite the propheteering
a future’s never as foretold
efficiency is all
about guilt
the need to fit
what’s here
take self from day –
where’s time?
we fail
sometimes walk with
the creek, take turns
who has precedence?
who knows?
still there’ll be sun
shimmer
where the river’s morning
runs
we will – won’t we? –
return
to the all day river
night falls to it too
please tell me just that
you’ll be here
I write the book till
it falls apart
I hope that you’ll
read this way
1718
5.286
13.x.24
the ways of
the world
are every which
by stream
and sunwide shown
they grow by step
by breath
the way has these days of a mountain
those whom you meet
have come thus far
are all because they have been before
even surefooted
far in the midst
a stumble of sorts
uphill a line is a pause for breath
it’s good for the knees to go up
then sometimes sit
wait for time to come
you just had to be there
an old tree is the wild creek’s midst
the creek is quicker than the way
and sometimes the way is the bed of a creek
ask which came first
you learn the names along the way
they are just as far as gone
forget your self as well
track beaten
rung with pilgrim bells
way’s made
by hoof, by hand, by wiser heads
I salute all the work of the way
each careful stone
the leaf strew skitter
mud to fit
one has to look out for the signs
of course one may be shown but
the ways of the world are all one
to the wanderer
much up as down
frequently flat
one goes along with
the ways of the world
are every which
by stream
and sunwide shown
they grow by step
by breath
they are a homeless home
I like the place where rhyme’s forbidden
you have to hear just what’s
there
in Jersey City
five am shouting, sudden Monday across the narrow street
through the double glaze too – hard hats, tapes, bossing about
all this anger goes into building a building
it comes down from the top of the tree
the shouting in so many languages
then the cops come, work stops for a bit
you wonder what’s going on…
the cops leave
either nothing really
happened or I don’t know what did
now the reversing alarm, it’s all louder than it was before
you can’t even lean out the window, shout ‘shut the fuck up!’
they wouldn’t hear you, they wouldn’t listen if they could
they might not understand
anyway, the window doesn’t open
someone’s got the blow up rat out the front, dinosaur size
the placard says ‘pay your workers!’
1717
5.285
12.x.24
in beetle bright, in the vanish
Kumano Kodo
a morning
shines
sometimes
the way’s just these steps
hatlessly,
as day begins
or a frog
gets out of the way
one will
slow to the pace of the trail
even here
I could call
Pitt St
the cadence
of my country comes
and sun
to bright
the mist away
here’s the
rhythm of it
how I’m a
ghost too
sometimes
you’ll think you’ve written a line
but the line
is waiting still
there’s looking
back
and see you’ve
gone
a bend in
time
those
footsteps behind, my own
they say you’d
hear the stillness
but for what’s
still in your head
1716
5.284
11.x.24
a leaf downstream
(the practice of less
is just where we are)
Otogawa, Wakayama
see just what
feel, touch
taste day
are you to notice a vanish of cloud?
a river makes mist of first light
look up out
no heretofore
but here and now
in order to look
you must see
it’s just these little prints I leave
barest of impressions
least of light falls
through these leaves
to the floor
sometimes you won’t believe where you are
so little one need bear in mind
some days a head is empty
at times hard to just be yet
water falls over a stone
you’d need to be awake to it
but, if not, it still goes
they say that in order to see
you must look
where the river is swimming
sit fish
you have to believe in them though
the practice of just where we are
is much less
than many have made it to be
