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Arashiyama
what if the mountain were made of a storm?
leaves fled the tree
hear the river
come down to it
along beside
up trudge
at times be lit
there are its narrow streets
walls mud
what if a roof were told of cloud?
if a tree were all days before?
what if the day blew off?
night crouched just here
hid from the stars
what if the grass grew over the clock?
time is a picture of the clock run dry
old knowledge is the place now gone
lamps yet to show our faith that the sun
what if the dark were a dream
close your eyes!
ask!
what if the storm were a mountain?
as often at sea we are
the singing of children – none so wise
a first sutra
unfold the hours just here
so scribe
what if the moment passed?
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