the puppy that knows not
our stroll in the park
of his paintbrush
singing skylark
butterflies wage war
behind us
sick in bed
the solace
the fan
insomnia
a leaf…
in an oil slick
low winter sun
shining in my soup bowl
armadillo
on the sundial
at low tide
warm sun
clearing cobwebs
and then darkness
take flight
winter solstice
hush the heart
comes back
the raven's voice
cooking pots
an old man…
moving on
my wolf
the moon…
a snail
abandoned house
climbing on a pine
lovely
who is not here
abandoned house
summer shower
yesterday
cast into shadows
selling straw sandals
not knowing the bird
moonlit night
a chilling moon
looking back at their house
behind the pillar
for sale
from the patio door
not at all bothered
an icicle hangs
the scent of dusk…
a box of dolls
pure water
winter solitude
out of the water
about the moon
ours is a world of suffering
burst into full blossom
of her paintbrush
smoke from the fire
sparrows in the bamboo…
the waterfall roaring
i'm going out
yet still singing
the missing subject
in the pools
