What can be said?
possible, we think
scattered drifting dreams, tree leaf
showers earth -- autumn
[wfh, nunc ipsum]Every explanation falls behind woodpile. Rotting wood from old excavations damp with dark soil wondering why they are moved now. For now, no explanation suffices.
[Basho] practiced Zen without insignia or ordination. Every decade he experienced a catastrophic reordering of his life. 'Let my name be "Traveler,"' he implored, following the narrow road of poetry to the far north. He shattered clever wordplay haiku to create a new mosaic of language, solitary and raw. ‘ he old verse can be about willows,’ he observed, 'but haiku requires crows picking snails in a rice paddy.' -- Wendy Johnson, "Seventeen Syllable Medicine"I will take oar and trust swell and chop to carry across morning.