Dear Issa,
I take a ginkgo walk in the garden
of 10,000
bedbugs, moons, and deaths.
I follow your footsteps.
Some days,
I can’t find haiku.
I climb to the top of Cold Mountain.
Did you paint haiku on the cave wall
with ink only visible in full-moon glow?
I journey to Kyoto where you slept.
Baby Buddhas light the path at the turn
but you are not present in the temple.
Did you stroll through moss and fern in the garden?
Carry a bucket of water, stroke calligraphy on rocks?
Was the first line dry before you finished?
Dear Issa, I walk in the grove
where a student hanged himself
but do not unearth a Yellow River poem.
Thank you, Issa, for taking a ginkgo tour,
the bedbug in your robe, the frog at the pond,
its moment of splash, time of inch, act of sting.
Your English Friend Across Time
*
Tree Dweller Fisherfolk
who are these tree dwellers
fishing from branches?
on your morning walk,
you break their trigger lines
across the driveway
overnight hunters
high in tree branches
weave the long dangling strands
some of the tree tunnel hosts
wait on the end of a rope
others leave behind
a thread bridge discard
from a youngling that kited
on a silk string
or hitched a balloon ride
to a new hunting ground
be a wary door bell ringer
if you don't want to get snared
guests presenting themselves for dinner
make a spider happy
*
No Smile
You don't appreciate a smile until you get Bell’s Palsy and can’t. People you know startle on meeting. Hummingbird-quick as a whirr, facial nerves don't work. The left brow can't lift. Your left eye doesn't wink. You use a finger to open or shut that eye. Wear a black patch. Can’t drink from a glass. Pinch your lips to hold a straw. Your mouth sags, food dribbles out on the left. Did this happen to the Phantom of the Opera? Can you join him in the cellar? You want to spit at the thief who stole your whistle but can't.
https://www.mobap.edu/about-mbu/publications/cantos/
Date Published: March 15, 2026