for w.cat
I had a book of Chinese and Japanese poems that I gave to a friend on the west coast. It was a very small book with a yellow cover, stapled together. No adornments. Just the poems, alive after hundreds of years. J.M.W.
The Japanese Mason
Without haste, gathering scrape of the trowel, slap of cement, reaching for a block, setting and tapping it level, turning with the wheelbarrow, graceful, sweating, freed of every moment.
Kauai
Sweet Hawaii
Even if somebody did steal my battery, generator, oil cap, visegrips last night, I passed the test to be a taxi driver, and even if I don't have the money to buy a Charley's Taxi shirt, congratulations to me. I'll figure something out. I'll have coffee in Everybody's Bake Shop; I'll write Varve and Finn, tell them I love them, tell them sweet Hawaii going to be our new home.
Honolulu
Bus Stop
14, eyes of a deer
in bamboo.