rosary beads
I enter my sixth
decayed

creation chanted out of a kumara

with cold comfort
the tribbling wood pigeon
lays me to rest
is this fading darkness
a universe
or a little death?
hush your mind!
the silence knows
who we are

spring cleaning —
examining his conscience
the prosecutor

(after a Basho hokku)

winter blues —
the day also
cloudless
winter day-moon —
something I once heard
returns to haunt me
behind closed doors
the old prospector sieves 
a summer breeze
moonless night
the dramatic monologue
of a bagworm
ouch!
the utter silence
of whiteness
overturning
a previous incarnation
the office worm