Gaijin Giri
for C.C.

unlike we others
you never

wrote lustpoems
or beckoned to

us to follow you
through that dark
& fiery
gate to the mysterious
home of the Dakini

yet like a fish leaping
out of water
you weren’t

who you
did not

honor
as editor you
had killer

instincts

those who
wobbled yr first impression meter
still valid in this
next century

Untitled

it looks different from the way
it really is
it looks different almost always
almost always almost

everything is everything
everything is everything

the woman & the man paths
crossing
the woman & the
man crossing paths
light pouring
in front of them, to the sides of them,
between them above them
light pouring tilted from another space

where she sits in meditation
the rock behind her back transparent
& in the space in front of her
the man in the pink shirt
bald & slender, jogging in place
it looks different from the way
it really is

almost always almost

Man Wearing Pink Shirt

inside her deep
unfolding rose

a need as basic
as goodness

as breath yet breath alone
cld not produce

this bald man in pink
shirt
crossing her path so

frequently
stopping her mind

so painfully a simple
hello!

Sangwa samgyi mi khyappa!

whatver is
secret is as much a part
of everyday life
as we are      living

never separated from loneliness.
Go Tell it in the City.