WEIGHTLESS
The whales weightless
In their heaven.
The spice islands of the night.
Drowned in
Midsummer blue
Scattered, sprinkled.
They sing across half a world:
These whales weightless
Rippled in starlight.
The golden moon is a song.
They shall sing the song
Of one line,
Of one world,
Of one note,
Endlessly satisfied.
The dark with its peacock eyes,
The bruised lips of the rose,
The scented fingers of night.
Wordless on the wings of fluid song
The curves they leap,
The sideways slide of their dream:
The stars that weave the hours.
Ryokan says:
Months pass, days pile up
Like one intoxicating dream-
An old man’s sighs.
One bowl
Is the moon.
One robe
Is the sky.
He says:
Dreaming about this dream world again
Old memories return.
Ten thousand mountain paths.
And they are weightless
In their blue heaven,
Stars, mountains,
Whales.
The spice of moonlight
Scented of roses.
Wordless they turn,
Sighing they turn,
Weightless, wordless:
These days piling up,
Endless paths, winged,
Sliding, drifting,
Weightless.
came across some old scribblings, upon which this piece was constructed
simonhlilly 