pigeon on the balcony
preening its feathers
darkness falls quickly
sinking sun floats huge in haze
swells, wavers, and sinks
creeping forward, slow
as if he’s unseen when stopped
squirrel on a wire
in the grey distance
clouds gather over hushed hills
we can only wait
even this water
fetid, green, lizard-paddled
flows down to the sea
dust swirls in the dawn
burmese construction workers
silently bike by
a bat flaps above
candles still glow by the shrine
gold in the calm dusk
my head is empty
a slight breeze brings thoughts of fall
and the old regrets
motionless and yet
higher each day than the last
a forest of cranes
colder out than in
the garbage truck’s three mahouts
joke as they roar by
trees sway in the wind
i’d forgotten halloween
until this moment.
Regaining balance
Now the rains have receded.
Trash fires burned last night
i need to study
to learn to see what i see
what’s in front of me
the sun advances
crawls down the concrete facades
reaches the treetops
above damp dark trunks
mossy trunks twisting skyward
spread countless damp leaves
in the blue distance
towers loom, fade in the haze
pink clouds piled above
a forest of cranes
high scaffolds rise like mushrooms
the workers walk in
motionless, moving
against, yet one with wind-gust
slow-gliding pigeon
ripples on the lake
perturb the growing pink glow
of the morning clouds
more lightning last night
i stare, thinking of nothing
how did i get here
while i was watching
their dance, they all vanished
streetlamps’ reflections
mist is receding
so are the flooded puddles
we move between them
a thin damp wind blows
steel towers shrouded in mist
like jagged stone peaks
in just that short time
of perhaps five hundred breaths
the sun had risen
triangle of soil
where the canal curves slightly
sprouting a billboard
the dawn city gleams
rooftops touched by rising sun
like hammered gold leaf
a damp grey morning
my nose is still congested
even coffee's bland
a cold wind, again
droplets on balcony glass
thais in knit caps, scarves
men push their food carts
first dawn sun strikes the rooftops
i am not ready
i open the door
a shock of cold, rainy air
i think of ginza
a sidewalk sweeper
pushes leaves with her twig broom
are the rains finished?
the streets sounded wet
before full waking, i knew.
a day for resting.
it grew dark at noon
the constant sound of thunder
i welcomed the flood
two white birds fly low
over the dark green waters
sadness buffets me
the ground is still wet
bikes swerve around deep puddles
a bird swoops to drink
the rainy season
black wall of clouds every night
rolling straight towards us
when the rains rolled in
air turned green like seawater
dark like the seafloor
distant palm trees stand
on hotel and condo roofs -
vines on ziggurats
buildings my mountains
the road my slow brown river
memories of the Khwai
downpour came so fast
men held the lobby doors shut
like storm-lashed sailors
after the rains, clear
damp leaves, a darker shade, wave
in the fresh dawn wind
the road has soaked up
all of last night’s long downpour
but the air’s still clear
in the still warm air
the damp, dark branch-tops don’t move
their reflections dance
grey wall of buildings
once it’s past the horizon
was it ever there?
warm morning coffee
steams as the dawn mists recede
i’m still lost in fog
a cool morning wind
i think of other places
of other seasons.
woman moves slowly
morning, sweeping her shopfront
in a pink sarong
are those fresh raindrops?
wonder what this wind will bring
i turn to face it
there are more cracks now
this must all be torn down soon
tongue on a filling
can’t stop the sun
the cool blue morning begins
i feel only fear
a cool grey morning
the dull green canal reflects
the colorless clouds
before work begins
a shirtless man sits cross-legged
with a cigarette
almost feels like snow
like Japan, sky overcast
the wind cool and damp
the slum rooster crows
season’s the same and different
all has cracked, or grown.
water everywhere
sparkles in the evening sun
gutters gleam golden
it rained so much that
slowly beneath the stream’s flow
green shrubs are swaying
hints of fall’s coming
chill breeze, cicadas above
my sight seems to dim
it’s our last week here
the stream still flows, but my view’s
already fading
new start after rain
first type of impermanence
tree fell in the stream
knew i’d feel this way
knew the choice i made was wrong
it’s raining harder.
otter climbs onto
the storm-swollen stream’s mudbank
chipmunk squeaks and runs.
silver floating moon
not there without sunglasses
silver plane contrails
the midges’ shadows
look more solid than they do
pawprint in the mud
It rained hard all night
water leaked through the sunroof
of the rental car
a hard-boiled egg shell
foam and leaves caught at an ebb
cobwebs everywhere
familiar feeling
only weeks since the solstice
shadows lengthening
only water sounds
sun dances on stream ripples
no thoughts in my head
to my ears at least
identical to birdsong
chipmunk’s frightened chirp
among the tree roots
almost hidden, cracked and twined
rubber garden hose
small bees, dragonflies
bottlecap on the streambed.
ripples leave shadows.
The round stone remains
the stream ripples around it
None of this is real.
the slow foam-flecked stream
seems a solid amber sheet
like dark sugar glass
pigeon lands on rock
midstream, in shaft of sunlight
clean grey feathers gleam.
confusion and rage
blinded me the whole morning
I must let go now.
awakened confused
it was just dusk, now morning
a wall of white mist
sunlight through the leaves
the trees are taller each year
they will outlive us
alone in the woods
birdsong, footsteps, and silence
I take a deep breath
alone, circling
far from where I want to be
aha! parking spot
fingertips still numb
sipping double espresso
as the clouds roll in
sound of cold small stream
damp green vault of moss, ferns, firs
i just need to breathe.
five days have now passed
clouds swept in over the hills
i’ve seen my dark twin
mist on the hilltops
I sip coffee; my tongue’s raw
from last night’s candy
white fluff drifts from trees
piles like snow on mossy roots
I’m too tired for awe
dry grass fields, low sun
fir trees line the high ridges
not yet awake, here
this is all there is
one more cup of coffee, now
i must start from here
the lights on the bridge
distant in the clear blue air
flicker like candles
surprising new sight
as the blue night turns grey dawn
food cart’s coals’ red glow
i hear the city
rooster-crow, engines whining
A/C unit thrums
something is not right
clouds and fog the last three days
clouds, fog in my mind
those blinking red lights
and the dark spaces between
the city’s sleeping
as the sky lightens
i watch the park lights turn off
no way to turn back
mist curls in headlights
plane passes planet above
we are all swimming
minutes till sunrise
dark birds pass under dark sky
sad the sun must rise
just before the dawn
a wide-strewn sea of bulbs glows
city lights like stars
as if by lightning
the clouds are lit from behind
by Vesak’s full moon.
the homeless men’s camp
the patch of mud by the khlong
is being paved over
storm in the distance
vast cloud bank glows with lightning .
it can’t be heard here.
somehow still alive
the view looks unfamiliar
the sky’s lightening
almost unseen blur
fell, plop! sprawled stunned on the floor
gecko in the air vent
just for a moment
I stood there completely still
transfixed by birdsong
sky like it might snow
thunder rumbling all day long
wet, black soccer net
cicadas’ whirring
drowned out by nearby thunder
but it does not rain
distant lightning arcs
vast black cloud moving in fast
i wait for the rain
a single white cloud
so tall, its top glows with dawn
it’s still dark down here
closer to solstice
a brief shaft of sunlight slants
beneath the closed door
gleams on the canal
it must flow under this house
a dark, walled-in vein
a blue mist hangs low
as building-tops glow gold-red
in the rising sun
unexpectedly
a bird startled from branches
i feel contentment
i try to think, but
something’s caught between my teeth
tongue investigates
planets have shifted
moving lights like vast airplanes
one is setting now
how long did i sleep?
laundry room light has burned out
puddle on the floor
lights all around me
this place is so beautiful
i want to see more
trees around streetlight
globe of branches glow and wave
like floating tea leaves
the air is so clear
distant buildings’ lights blazing
like welding torches
low, fast-moving clouds
passing over the city
glow with its orange light
bright full moon above
gleaming row of glass towers
dawn sun gilds their sides
mist covers the hills
but everything seems clearer
because i’m walking
On the balcony
Light from inside glows golden.
Just five more minutes.
on the hottest day
when nothing stirs at noontime
the broad palm fronds wave
head empty of thoughts
or too full of them, i sit
mouth slack like a fish
stumbling, soaked with sweat
at alley’s end, an old mosque.
overgrown graveyard.
in the dark branches
above as we walk the park
hidden cicadas
across the city
lights glow in the morning haze
for one more hour
a pair of planets
in the clear night after rain
the ground is still damp
the past is now gone
the present is also now gone
everything is gone
so many days passed
almost too many to count
oil flecks on my coffee
a distant rumbling
reaches me even in sleep
reflected lightning
in the amber depths
they float or sink with each sip
unfurling tea leaves
last week before break.
feels hot as summer used to.
feels like an ending.
dark dawn, wind and rain
slosh of tires on damp concrete
the low sky lightens.
pink snail pupae cling
to crumbling concrete pilings
along the canal
rumble of thunder
growing closer each minute
and i must go out
beneath the streetlamps
a pool of yellowish light
a shadow walks through
cicadas buzzing
brown bodhi leaves coat the path
distant thunder’s sound
dark construction site
light glows on an empty floor
skeletal shadows
Cloudy morning haze
Fresh green palm fronds wave outside.
It’s never too late.
cracked ceramic bowl
slipped through fingers while washing
irretrievable
the air is so clear
distant lights burn like diamond
stars in wintry sky
below the palm trees
below the broad brown river
sinks the swollen sun
unexpected sound
it’s been three years since Japan
cicadas’ shrill buzz.
a bird’s long, sad cry
a warm wind begins to blow
minutes before dawn.
from the deepest sleep
the fog has lifted a bit
i see more clearly.
the fog is still here
white glow around the streetlamps
perhaps it will rain
long, low rooftop glints
as rays of the setting sun
catch spinning tin vents
up through a small crack
on the high rooftop’s stone tiles
a tiny green sprout
faint steam curls, rises
in the low shaft of sunlight
almost like incense
the minutes pass by
a stream of motorcycles
i watch motionless
unexpected moon
moves swiftly across the sky
and i hide my face
a lighted window
standing outside, looking in
night begins to fall
wind, water and light
reflections on dark water
quick, dancing flashes
another new year
a warm breeze, the start of spring
are the old roots dead?
between silent trees
mist rises all night, unseen
except by the moon
waiting for more news
so much time has passed, wasted
the dawn sky lightens
another nosebleed
can’t really taste my coffee
with this plugged nostril
alone on the khlong
a stray dog starts from his sleep
a gate bars my path
in the marketplace
the floor is wet underfoot
the eye of a fish
brown pipal leaves crunch
bats wheel low over the lake
a charcoal fire glows
too many thoughts now
walking past the gnarled tree roots
my eyes saw nothing
cold again today
like the start of a new year
feels old already
clouds move past the moon
and another month is gone
this futile sadness
i waited too long
unsure about what to do
the full moon’s moved on
selfish, I see signs.
lamp behind a wind-swayed tree
seems to blink in code
Another month gone.
A stooped man crosses traffic
Bent by his trash bags.
how did I get here?
how can I see with these eyes?
a pile of dead leaves.
children go silent
the world shrinks to one hushed room
white rain falls like snow
fog clings to the trees
vast ring of blinking red lights
five seconds’ silence
the pavement damp
as if it rained overnight
steam from coffee cup
half-built skyscrapers
rows of tree-trunks in the mist
haze thick like snowfall
my mind is empty
a bird above, in the dark
glides almost unseen
Is the sky brighter
Or haze lit up from below?
A confused rooster
the sausage-seller
kindles the tray of charcoal
small flame in the dark
big morning rainstorm
the air pulses with lightning
i’ll wade through the flood
the new year starts now
the city spreads dark below
Hawaiian coffee
So near the year’s end
Lights in the spirit houses
The moon white like bone
Something has been lost
I had it, for those two weeks
Dark shapes in the trees
More winter mornings
Days so short they pass unlived
Shadows on the wall
thin, empty brown husk
Ant-skeletonized cockroach
Long supply chain
Long daily commute
Between streetlights’ amber pools
Pushing her food cart
I count six of them.
Either planets or bright stars.
How long did I sleep?
Strange light on the rug
Blinking, yawning, I look out
Before dawn. Full moon.
Planet swims above
In cold breeze just before dawn
Red lights blink below
The end of the year
The bird cries seem quieter
The dawn is colder
Sun on green treetops
On the spirit house garlands
I remain apart.
Last week of the month
Are there more dead, drifting leaves?
Is the sky darker?
In the dark forest
The bronze statue sits, waiting
A beetle’s wings whir.
Exhausted all day
Slumped in my chair after school
Unable to move
But once home - pre-dinner walk,
curry, a book, and all’s well.
Sleeping neighborhood
By the unseen green canal
One moped headlight
Clear air after rain
Wait - distant lightning flashes
It’s not over yet
Puddles in the street
Rainy day in November
Deep melancholy
half-built towers loom
jagged, flood-lit metal husks
Fallen space stations
Sunlight on the wall
Slants in low this time of year
Runners on the field
Dark November dawn
Countless sleepers in dark rooms
dream countless cities
Across the canal
There is still one wooden bridge
Voices underneath.
Sounds of the city
Construction, engines, car horns
Ripples on the pool.
Coffeepot steam
Grassy hill, ridged, twined tree roots
All are in motion.
I awoke slowly.
Too much sleep, or too little?
A white cloud passes.
Night fell on the park.
Trees seemed bare in the fall chill.
My feet are blistered.
Cold morning again.
I have to forgive myself.
Time to make some tea.
Autumn evening walk
Palm I’d thought dead’s sprouted fronds.
The nearly-full moon
Top floors lost in mist
Iike limestone peaks in a bay
Half-built skyscrapers
The air is cold now
The King’s shrines all dismantled
One brown bodhi leaf
Unexpected chill
I think of that other lake
Lonely, in autumn.
Topped by blinking lights,
Darkened, half-finished building
Is a guard inside?
A half-hidden gate
Footpath between two stone walls
Cracks dripping with moss
No rain, a warm wind
Pedestrians all in black
Long, insistent cries
Lights move on the bridge
Taxis pass below like fish
Lights move in the sky
Construction site, dawn.
Greenish floodlights on steel bars
Tangled, dead coral.
Waking post-fever
Unsure how long I have slept
Have the long rains stopped?
Fever, 3 days passed
I toss and turn in bed, wrecked
Who else have I scarred?
breeze, white clouds piled high
Rainy season’s gone at last
Wait - was that lightning?
Bright disc of the moon
Street-vendor pushing her cart
Smoke in the distance
The near-full moon floats
As bright as a lesser sun
In the weak blue dawn
Coffee steam rising
Shoe stitching coming undone
Grey hairs in my beard
rained all night, again
I wonder where the birds slept
Grab my oldest shoes
In the cold fall mist
The construction site quiet
Its lights all still on
Darker mornings now
On the grey median strip
A man waits to cross
