no path this sky
no one outside

no thought
no thing

no round
no which

sumi tsubo

Plumb string taut

Snap black.

Mark, cut.

What?

A century on
it still smells of ink.

Insect drafted lines on insect eaten wood.

Made buildings.
They stood, fell.

See?
What's left -  one thread, too.

found(ation)

there

sage bark shoe
willow bark seine

again

those

feet, fish
left to weft, woof, fill

they're

extensions of the plant, the hair
sifted, freezing air 
cold water
drawn  over, through and

where

underfoot
near river's edge
the warp
remains still

fort rock sandals 10,000 bce

Strangely, forgiveness never arises from the part of us that was actually wounded. The wounded self may be the part of us incapable of forgetting, and perhaps, not actually meant to forget, as if, like the foundational dynamics of the physiological immune system our psychological defenses must remember and organize against any future attacks — after all, the identity of the one who must forgive is actually founded on the very fact of having been wounded. 

Stranger still, it is that wounded, branded, un-forgetting part of us that eventually makes forgiveness an act of compassion rather than one of simple forgetting. To forgive is to assume a larger identity than the person who was first hurt, to mature and bring to fruition an identity that can put its arm, not only around the afflicted one within but also around the memories seared within us by the original blow and through a kind of psychological virtuosity, extend our understanding to one who first delivered it. Forgiveness is a skill, a way of preserving clarity, sanity and generosity in an individual life, a beautiful way of shaping the mind to a future we want for ourselves; an admittance that if forgiveness comes through understanding, and if understanding is just a matter of time and application then we might as well begin forgiving right at the beginning of any drama rather than put ourselves through the full cycle of festering, incapacitation, reluctant healing and eventual blessing.

To forgive is to put oneself in a larger gravitational field of experience than the one that first seemed to hurt us. We reimagine ourselves in the light of our maturity and we reimagine the past in the light of our new identity, we allow ourselves to be gifted by a story larger than the story that first hurt us and left us bereft.

Maria Popova, poet David Whyte

loose

remove the

Thought
I ought
to write before sleep
seeps in

that tonight
under a clear umbrella
I watched the rain
fall

Taiko no Tatsujin (太鼓の達人)

What sounds
in my sleep?

Oh yes.
Remembering Momoka's
arcade drumming
rolling thunder
zing
for a spirit thing
((魂ゲージ tamashii geeji)
or even better
scores
a note-lit
truth
flitting
playing past  the target
(ノルマ noruma)
like gnats
on fire


Yes.
Drums have light in them,
and thunder.
Wonder what
sounds
me as she
to rhythm flight?

The sounds in my sleep
keep returning.

What plays
pounding
as I dream?

no cups
said the table
will top me
same, said the mount
to the mountain

both showing a side
where
there's room
for improvement

It isn't disappointment that makes you strong
but recovery from it.

Expand, adapt the process of
of forgiving
from without
to within.

Inside,
find
where first signs
of stricken
produced
a why.

For instance,
why your father
forged
himself iron,
unforgiving,
when he
could have
stood
sword sentinel,
or why
your mother returned
her grief to you,
a petition
for silence
placed in your hands.

They couldn't save you.

Some years
you will forget
their birthdays,
a slippage
righted quickly.
It isn't this forgetting
that makes you
stronger
but the recovery of
these  two
you knew
as joy and sorrow.
Memory is
your guardian triumphant:
you its
declaration of resistance
that read,
says

I survived.

prehistoric miniature clay pot Abbots Farm NJ USA (Kayla Kraft)

野良の遺徳に (to the village of nara) - (あき) 秋

near the temple beach
deer the size of chestnuts
feed on fallen persimmons

ラクダ

one lump
two
you've
seen them 
in a zoo
but you
haven't
seen 
them
at night
the
white 
ones
like stars
that appear
without
shadows
in
the empty quarter.



الربع الخالي‎, 
The Rub' al Khali
the empty quarter
Saudi Arabia's southern desert

にけし (an old doll)

My head squeaks,she said,as redpetalsfelluponherautumnbody.
Her cat nose?
It'safloatin abrownwaterface.

こけし

さんしゅゆsanshu yu山茱萸
cornus officinalisAsiatic dogwoodcornelian cherry
櫻井 所持 さくらい しょじ
なるに
食い致死と棚一の鳥居八思惟し白木寺らし

Kui chishi to tana ichinotorii hachi shiyui shi shiraki terarashi

Eating lethal and shelf one torii I think and Shiraki temple appearance

た け や ふ や け た
tahayafuyahata

t h e   b a m b o o   f o r e s t   i  s   b u  r n e d

when did you last
a night

this night

the smell of

ヤベ

ヤベ

"The Way - All processes are out of my control. When one sees this with understanding, then one is disillusioned with the things of suffering.This is the Path of Purification."
Dhammapada  20.279



new moon

some days
now alone
hone insight
waiting -
a
difficult
action,
to
take
nothing