Japanese Winter branches tipped with birds, fat buds that blossom on the air; gray flames at rest on a poplar candelabrum; four””-no, three””-notes on a

The Shopper I visit the grocery store like an Indian woman of Cuzco attends a cathedral. Repeating words: butter, bread, apples, butter bread apples. I

what issa heard two hundred years ago issa heard the morning birds singing sutras to this suffering world. i heard them too, this morning, which

For those of you who don’t know, William Carlos Williams (some consider him the father of the “Beat” generation) was a medical doctor. It is

  Sweet Dancer The girl goes dancing there On the leaf-sown, new-mown, smooth Grass plot of the garden; Escaped from bitter youth, Escaped out of

Gratitude to Old Teachers When we stride or stroll across the frozen lake, We place our feet where they have never been. We walk upon