JONQUILS IN WINTER
the sound of moonlight rests
on the branches of pines
and hitches a ride
on the scent of jonquils in winter
moonlight on the tongue
like tasting the song
of nightingales
wresting shadows from darkness
1/80
LOVE POEM
after Suzuki
when love awakens
we glimpse the infinite
but this love loosens the shell
diverts our desire and
loosens our grasp on the infinite.
1980
LOVE, ITSELF
Love itself
has no season, no time
to turn the rhythm of our souls.
As if by convection our breath
is snatched away and suspended
from mist particles along
the pounding shore.
2/1980
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