136 syllables at rocky mountain dharma center

Tail turned to red sunset on a juniper crown a lone magpie cawks.

Mad at Oryoki in the shrine-room -- Thistles blossomed late afternoon.

Put on my shirt and took it off in the sun walking the path to lunch.

A dandelion seed floats above the marsh grass with the mosquitos.

At 4 A.M. the two middleaged men sleeping together holding hands.

In the half-light of dawn a few birds warble under the Pleiades.

Sky reddens behind fir trees, larks twitter, sparrows cheep cheep cheep
cheep cheep.

dit de la force de l’amour

Entre tous mes tourments entre la mort et moi
Entre mon désespoir et la raison de vivre
Il y a l’injustice et ce malheur des hommes
Que je ne peux admettre il y a ma colère

Il y a les maquis couleur de sang d’Espagne
Il y a les maquis couleur du ciel de Grèce
Le pain le sang le ciel et le droit à l’espoir
Pour tous les innocents qui haïssent le mal

La lumière toujours est tout près de s’éteindre
La vie toujours s’apprête à devenir fumier
Mais le printemps renaît qui n’en a pas fini
Un bourgeon sort du noir et la chaleur s’installe

Et la chaleur aura raison des égoïstes
Leurs sens atrophiés n’y résisteront pas
J’entends le feu parler en riant de tiédeur
J’entends un homme dire qu’il n’a pas souffert

Toi qui fus de ma chair la conscience sensible
Toi que j’aime à jamais toi qui m’as inventé
Tu ne supportais pas l’oppression ni l’injure
Tu chantais en rêvant le bonheur sur la terre
Tu rêvais d’être libre et je te continue.

an eastern ballad

I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.

I never dreamed the sea so deep,
The earth so dark; so long my sleep,
I have become another child.
I wake to see the world go wild.

δυστόπος

On yesterday and Orwell,

Younger, I wondered what a citizen of a communist country would think reading "Animal Farm". As I read the allegory from an outsider point of view, everything seemed abstract, distant, impossible, funny. They did not have the book, could not have that reference for their own reality. That day-to-day was theirs, and even if they did not like it, they were embedded in that. I never discussed with anyone from an eastern block country that had read the book, but I suspect that fiction was as foreign to them as their reality was to me.
After 9/11, a disfunctional world became suddenly closer to us all. The countdown to "1984" started, as every year, every month, we discovered the big eyes and ears from governements. The simple put question of the balance between freedom and security was abused. There is no easy answer of course, and I remembered my meditations about "Animal Farm" and communist citizens. Even if it is in front of our noses, we still reason as there is a separate world called "1984" that is not the one we live in.
After the attack to Charlie Hebdo yesterday, I got this feeling that dystopia got us. I learned today of the open declaration of hostilities between Anonymous and Islamist Fundamentalist. A global gang war is coming to age, hackers against terrorists, and suddenly we are in a different world. I relate more and more to that communist citizen that could not refer to Animal Farm. At the end, we will get used to this brave new world, and I don't see any Orwell to lay it bare.

a desolation

Now mind is clear
as a cloudless sky.
Time then to make a
home in wilderness.

What have I done but
wander with my eyes
in the trees? So I
will build: wife,
family, and seek
for neighbors.

Or I
perish of lonesomeness
or want of food or
lightning or the bear
(must tame the hart
and wear the bear).

And maybe make an image
of my wandering, a little
image—shrine by the
roadside to signify
to traveler that I live
here in the wilderness
awake and at home.

before midnight

before sunset

before sunrise

いざや寝ん
元日は又
翌の事

je vais me coucher
le jour de l’an aussi
est une affaire de demain

nekojita