Ask The Mountains

2011-11-25T09:33:00.000-08:00

2011-05-12T05:52:00.000-07:00

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2008-09-27T23:28:00.000-07:00

Farewell

2008-06-17T09:35:00.000-07:00

Go nowhere, I will;
from this deep, dreary haze;
for this downpour'll cover up
these streets (in vain).

Like I've told the sparrows
to come again;
to lay flakes
upon my wintry stand;
to fly by, when the wind is low
downhill; as the maples do everytime.

And like I've told them to come again;
to peck around my garden,
stony cloister, frozen.
And in vain.

Unnamed 1

2008-06-17T09:32:00.000-07:00

There, the songbird sings it's sweet lullaby;
squat upon the forlorn ridge of this dusky glen.

May not the song fades from this place.
May not it goes to any mobbed beach.

May it drifts along the mapple bush like
a ripple through the fragnant breeze deep down;
where the deaf air of wood 'n saw chores are
so mistful, so sweet.