He rides the waves and waves
of consciousness, mimicking
the movements of the mind
with vital, kinetic energy.

Nature has been his mentor.
He lives in an ancient bamboo
forest on the island of Maui.
He cultivates towering trees.

No punctuation mars his poems.
Only the natural pausing
of breath, visceral rhythms,
all in one, a fluid dance down the page.

He has won every prize except
the Nobel, for which he is long
overdue. He studied with Berryman
and translated Lorca. His poetry transports,

an exercise in Zen. All is fleeting
for him, yet he preserves the past
in the present. Love, joy, serenity
permeate his poems. He is a master,

awaiting his students. He does not
have many years left. Now is
the time to read him. Now the time
to climb his trees in search of wisdom.