Haiku

I arrived in Japan for the first time on June 14, 1997, never having written a word of poetry. Finding myself awake from jet lag at 3:00 the following morning, I began writing haiku. The trip to Japan, represented by these haiku, was the initiating force for my first Japanese garden in Philadelphia, which evolved into the Columbus garden.

Fragrance after rain;
toll of the Zen gong;
sight and sound of fresh moss.





I love the sound of silence;
garden and Cage in my ears;
Ohm





Can man get it right?
Study hard, become a monk.
No!





Suiseki search:
stones with a pedigree,
hard to find in a stream.





This must be
the cleanest place in the world;
even the dirt is clean.





In Japan I think
monosyllabically;
haiku, much too long.





Wittgenstein was wrong:
no propositions
in haiku.





Kyoto sunset:
early by an hour,
late by an eon.





Wabi sabi hard to find;
only ghost,
like my faith.




I wish I were home,
wishing I were here
being here.





Leave today, 20 hours home,
arrive tomorrow,
yesterday.