Homily and Toast: Almost Daily Poems

"World line curve (or, there to here)"

i.

Today I touched a painting
painted in 1382

my fingers sang across
the colors and the gold leaf

felt the time between the time
they were put there and just then

six hundred years, more.
Can you imagine?

Six hundred years between
warm hands

and a few cracked figures
staring past me.

ii.

My tongue thrills
at the sweetness
of cold figs and yoghurt
a spoonful of honey.

Each bite
the best one taken.

"No Theseus"

How is it that we get here anyway
face to face with something more
than the quiet exhalation of a night kept in
the half-heard whisper of tomorrow's expectation.

We can only twist so long
dance around the corners of a memory
before we finally reach the bull

and I am the coalesce of sun and wing
the lampyrid freed of the jar.

Tell me, where then
is the apotropaic token I've waited for too long
where is it that we reconcile
the labyrinth with the axe?

"I Know You Said Not To Write You and I Didn't For A While, But Here's A Light-Hearted Ode You Might Enjoy; I Promise This is the Last Poem I Send You"

Sometimes sitting here in Kyōto,
I pause to check the time in Israel
just to see how fast time goes by there.
Then I wonder whether you are

awake yet or if you have eaten
or if you are having fun
or if you've come close
to putting your head in the lion's mouth.

Sometimes living on a tropical isle
is almost too good to be true,
but I still miss you

whenever I pause to stare
at the difference in the sundial
between Kyōto and Israel
and there I come to find

that you're only 6 hours behind.
But even as the crow flies
you are 4,951 nautical miles away.

Symmetry, Syllable, Symbol

Hazelnut, raspberry, diamond--
symbols of the New Year,
the worst time to run errands.
I haven't showered since you were last here

and I wouldn't even do so to be sincere.
There are no good reasons to take off
your mother's cashmere cardigan.
I have no one in town to impress

by wearing your mother’s wardrobe.
Hazelnut, raspberry, diamond--
will you invent a story for me to tell
on New Year’s Eve amongst the best
friends you could ever hope to hello

or will you keep it secret, New Year’s Eve.
Will you refuse to utter the key
to a puzzle I’ve been turning over

in my head where life always is.