角田川もっと古びよ時鳥
Sumidagawa motto furubi
yo hototogisu
Kobayashi Issa
i. The Upper Course & the rising light
Cumulus
cities topple in this heat
tumble-down ruins
better
left unnamed
a
conspiracy of blue
masks
the stars
information
afloat
on this ill wind
rises
against
the flow of time
echoing
backwards
The
absence of water
distills Our spirit
spills
Our form
through these dry rocks
through this cracked earth
Creatures
dwell within Us
hide
in the fissures
in
the formation
of
thought itself
these
stone triads speak of Us
in
their ancient tongues
telling
Our broken tales
of
death and water
You
rake over a chalky soil
rivers once ran through this
spirited
and alive
circling in spirals seeking
dry wells and dusty beds
spun faster and ever deeper
But
your thoughts are spiderwebs
vibrations on a string
holding
the memories of your lives
like
somber flies trapped
attached
to life
at
the worlds four corners
tenuous
& barely visible
Recognition
goes straight down
to the shriveled root of things
the
lattice below the surface
builds
light and life
holds
your secret wish
to
wrap time
in
silken threads
The
bird of time
unspools its blood song
late
into the night
like
paper cranes
awhirl
in midair
these
brief moments
shed
the burdens
of
a body
in thrall to the shadows
lurking unseen
buffeting you
through dust
and darkness
to
transcend the power
heal
the damage
But a storm will break
when the
thunder speaks
a
sudden waterfall
to
hide your thoughts
from
yourselves
you cannot hear
what you think
cannot
speak what you must
the
water dissolves your words
Take
a stone
throw it into the river
see
the ripples widening
to
the edge
happiness
is that moment
in time and space
enclosed like a secret garden
But
so is hell:
the lotus root inhabits
just
a patch of dirt
in
an empty courtyard
four
walls caked in mud
Some
say your world
may end in flood
some
say from the fire
that
emits from within
but
the moon still rises
leaves a light feather
for
your pillow
a
halo as wide as the sky
For
here is the passage
that leads into madness
all
the way down
to
where the bodies lay
even
your own
and the river sees it all
Like
sunken libraries
We are flooded
with
memory:
falling
sakura
trees
of pain
a
bone moon reflected
on
the silent water
In
wave upon wave
the words ripple
subside
fold you back to the implicate order
become
real
as
a dream becomes flesh
ii. The Lower Course & the falling
shadow
The
unlived life
is
more examined
than
your real one.
Things
you meant to say,
dreams
you meant to do
but never did
weigh
heavy on your heart;
divergent
streams narrow,
currents
split apart,
as
imagined fates itch
like
phantom limbs.
You
mourn the time
lost
in this isolation,
the
tears dried on
your
pillow long ago,
but
an ache remains
like
a shadow
in
the corner.
Some
of you will call this
a
living poem,
its
verses built
from
the ground up,
branching
and blooming
like
a sakura tree;
some
of you will call this
an
awakening,
a
release from singing
your
blood songs to the deaf;
some
of you will call this
an
infinite library
full
of boundless chambers,
a
tower built to heaven,
rooms
branching outward
until
reaching itself again
a journey in leaving
that
is never complete
and
never meant to end;
some
of you will call this
a
world without Nature,
unreal
and unfathomable
with
its figments and fragments
and
objects of doom;
and
some of you will
call
this a river still
flowing
and swirling,
never
repeating,
yet
holding steady,
like
the conscious mind
awakened
from
its slumber,
rising
and falling
with
the tides.
So
We turn together
to
that orange glow
in
the trees
flowering
against
the
impossible blue,
that
afternoon fade,
where
slate colors all
and
grey shadows fall
through
trapdoors
in
time and space;
We
head with you
toward
that perfect stop,
to
that bend in the river
where
everything
seems
to change
and
nothing
appears
to end.