In Current reading, Poetry, Revision on February 15, 2015 at 9:34 am

Basho. Nothing matched up per se, of course. Unless I settle on

tabi ni akite kyo ikuka yara aki no kaze

which translates, more or less, to : how many days gone by since I became content with my traveling

But, of course, I got distracted along the way, and started circling the numbers on my favorite haiku instead of finding a match with the layout I photographed yesterday. Kept traveling back to one in which I learned a cuckoo is called a hototogisu in Japanese and, in one specific haiku, the hototogisu kept flying and repeating nakunaku in a great state of agitation.

hototogisu nakunaku tobu zo isogawashi


Thin, piercing, straight-down rain out there. Outdoor markets in winter rain. Joys of.

Plus? Revision, what else.


In the dream, there were two long straight gravelled paths at the neighbor’s farm. One led to the stables to which I wanted to bring a visitor so he could meet the horses. Except I was on the other gravelled path, and pulling a small child-sized wheelbarrow with great care. Almost as if it were a rake on the gravel and the image, a visual illustration of a poem. A variation on Williams’ The Red Wheelbarrow.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it. All the time. You read others. You see what they do. Always, they lead from that small shock of recognition back to


at least, that’s what they do for me.


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