Where did it come from, this premonition that someday I will be parted from my head?
time to shed your coat woolly bear
In a distant field, a white house glows like a sail in the late-March sun.
a mourning cloak’s black velvet
When I was a Buddha, my radiant body rang like a bell.
a gall wasp’s
empty oak apple
gone to seed
the empty days
in his pocket calendar
in the autumn wind
held by a swallowtail
with tattered wings
finding each other