collecting bones
from the side of the road
i celebrate the blue heron's return.

Saturday March 27 2004

One week after
the first day of spring
I open the door
to let out the cat
bird song comes in

march twenty four two thousand four
(shodan poem 3: sanchin)

I don’t know what is hitting me
or who.
it feels like a mountain
then I hear Kaicho yell
“I do this - because I love you” .
Later, at home I watch the digital
see my sister in my movements
how short I am
feel like a universe.

st. patrick's day
march seventeen two thousand four
(shodan poem 2)

the city was drinking up a storm
as I tied on the blind fold.
tight and trusting we clung
one to the other
like elephants
shuffled slowly to the curb
like a chain gang
stepped down.
my body swayed
my lips found sure footing in smile
my heart cracked open
and when the time came
I did not welcome the light
but clung to the fold
humbled
exposed
an insect under glass
a child of the moment
an embryo born to the test.

a single flake
found its way between my breasts
melting into a childhood memory
that found me first in the twilight
of a boulevard in l.a.
and now just north of canal
slush filled streets
trees heavy with snow
darkness falling
a bit of london in the tail lights
the entrance to my grandmother's
brooklyn apartment house
rises like avalon
in the mists
of a late season storm.

the reading

painted in water stains
sculpted of peeling plaster
labia flowered
on the ceiling
above my head
stealing the poem

wednesday march ten two thousand four
(shodan poem)

on the day i become a white belt again
i see hyacinths breaking ground
think i've lost the second of two hats in as many days
(consider it a symbol of losing my head)
drum my heart beat for courage
annoint myself with oils of sweetgrass
cedar and sage
sit on a seiza bench
at the feet of my teachers
drink the mana flowing from their lips
the fibers of their belts
tattered
black
weaving us new