I write anecdotes - aphoristic expressions and archaisms - works poised on the edge of a precipice, hanging from thin threads of language. Drifting from short sustained rhythms to disjointed exhortations. Painting by Shibata Zeshin 1807-1891
William Blake
The Sick Rose
O Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
Kuncan – 1612-74
Wandering through mountains and oblivious of time,
We met in casual shoes (and attires).
The wind and dew drops harbor a chilling emptiness.
Only with patience and silence can the Chan inspiration come...
