Scissoring

Breaking down confinement, letting in fresh air

Scissoring pieces of manuscripts, selecting the words,

The correct capture, the clear release

How can we know treasure if surrounded by excess

Trim and, trim intelligently, creating more space

To flourish, more fulfilled and free

Will dreaming make us happier?

 

We look for the hidden charms

I can only see you from a great distance 

Blurred and incomplete.

 

I continue to work

I continue to dream

Though we may live in parallel universe

The distance gets smaller.

Listening

Sometime I am blinded of what I know

Prevents me from listening

At the end of the tunnel, I hope, is another way

And in the ocean, after I hoist a sail

The wind will pick up

And carry me to a wider reality.

 

I start putting words in my pocket

The birds start picking and scatter them

Some fall on front yards, others on the river

Fish snatch the floating words

The fishermen jump with surprise

People come out of their doors and greet me 

I feel embarrassed, I answer with greetings

I’m thankful, their dogs like me

Tomorrow I will take a basketful of words to the Farmer’s Market 

I will sit next to the mushroom grower

She tells stories about creatures in the forest

I will be a good listener.

To thread a needle

It will be difficult to thread a needle

If you are farsighted.

 

He loses his temper and throws the dental floss

He doesn’t want to talk or smile.

 

She doesn’t chase the last word anymore when she talks

She observes the three bees on the rhododendron.

 

He drives in the forest and along the coast

He is calm under the redwood trees.

 

She drops the vase filled with water and flowers on the living room

Her right hand is bleeding.

 

He helps her clean up

They decide to make amends.

 

“Seize the day,” the poet says

Helping others is the crowning praise.

 

It’s wonderful when verb and adjectives are used together

I like crabs dancing under the candle lights.

 

When pronouns drop in , it’s hilarious

All the nouns scatter.

 

They are laughing walking on the beach

Beethoven is a pianist, then a composer.

 

Experience of loss and sad endings are dispersed in life

They are secret ingredients of freedom.

 

She runs alone, alone with her own thoughts

The hardest challenge.

 

Failure, triumph, dried tears, lost tracts of time

In sepia then autumn raging with colors.

 

Embroidery is a sacred craft

We welcome new threads.

Good things

I walk to the river

My mind filled with doubts

 

Standing on the riverbank

The egret watches ducks pass by 

Like thoughts

 

Somewhere I lose my way

After solid struggle I find the correct turn

 

Imagine

If I can do now

The good things I forgot

To do before.

 

Hope

Sprouts during moments

When the desert looks completely

Deserted.

.

The Distance Between

Once upon a time the distance

Between thoughts is eternity

Time has changed

The distance has narrowed

One thought can almost touch the other thought

Yet we ourselves are getting apart

Much farther then ever before

The noises are ever present 

And everywhere, no places

Where quietness reigns

Humanity is diminishing like insects

Information floods and displaced truth

The mind is restless and occupied

Not a moment stilled for self reflection

We are walking statues

Blind and deaf to directions

Or how far is self destruction?

“Hatefulness is everywhere.”

 

Once, I asked you

If you have a map

You smiled and I smiled

We both knew the answer

And we were silent, our faces blank

We walked away sad

With tears in our eyes.

 

To go far, to do a little

More, we need 

To walk together.