Few look up to heaven
To see the Lord in all his beauty
Many look down
And will forever wonder

Within the eyes of the beholder
Another curtain closes
Behind closed doors
Apathy is closest
To the heart
I am but blind
And yet still able to lead
If we followed you
We all would eventually bleed
Can't you see there's pain
Behind those knives
Stuck in your back?
You are stuck behind
A pathetic dream
And a guilty pleasure
How could you put them first?
I should pity the sight
But I'm too embarrassed to look
And too embarrassed to plea
Trash or treasure
You must rid yourself from it
It is cracked from the head
And yet it is you who fell
It's been dead for years
And yet you refuse to bury it
I'm through dragging this corpse
I can no longer bear the stench
May I be equally absent
As I am equally blind to you

Forty-eight floors up, a God’s-eye view

a man practices tai-chi on a tired patch of grass
he is measured, beautiful

families rest under new-green trees
in Yoyogi Park this early spring Sunday

Mt. Fuji rises like a myth, fading
to illusion in the gathering smog.



                                                            A few inches can be an impossible sea

                                                            we sit, silently contemplating discord
                                                            and the meaningless reasons for it

                                                            cherry trees paint the city pink
                                                            while faded petals cyclone at our feet

                                                            tears, fleeting as sakura
                                                            bloom and fall.