Saturday, April 4, 2015

HEART THREAD 294 & 295


Old pens old friends the given always gets
hand it to me we say and hand it surely is
weather of a distant city breath of your mouth
transhuman rhapsody suck on your finger now
o you everything you beast of a million leaves
make me listen to your touch
also spoke sorrow after joy to mingle
red sky at evening leave your grieving
all you lost is safe in Amitabha’s glowing land
it is good to console better to unmind the sorrow
who are you to lose to feel to grieve
answer me that you Trinity scholar and rejoice.

I’m translating back into my mother tongue
what I heard in the high mountains
what I learned under the hill
earth gods and mind lords and me in between
a haggard buffoon with a bottle of ink
o sail me to your island ever after
pillow me with stillness till the fever eases
then I’ll take hold of autumn skies
and bring them onward with a sheen of rain
to cool the counsel of an angry world
gets hotter by the day as if all scriptures
give us one mandate to conquer and to kill.