the distance vast
between east and west
in miles in years
so long so far gone
yet here I sit
with coffee
laced with whiskey
listening for your voice
in these small hours
till dawn
Author: zdunno03
from a line by Wei Ying-wu
ah this life
a long journey
and we travelers
stumbling along
with uncertain hearts
the wind at our backs
the sun on our faces
our eyes on the bend
in the road
coffee
it’s not the coffee
that keeps me up
at night
but oh how I wish
it was
“What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.”
from Douglas Moore’s Art of Quotation
“What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.”
I’m reminded once again why I eat lamb chops
it’s not for my health
all that fat
but I’ll take
a second portion
for the taste
limping along
between joy
and despair
stands hope
limping along
toward tomorrow
Written on the Wall at West Forest Temple by Su Tung-p’o
From the side, a whole range; from the end, a single peak;
far, near, high, low, no two parts alike.
Why can’t I tell the true shape of Lu-shan?
Because I myself am in the mountain.
translated by Burton Watson
In Memory: “I don’t put labels on it, I just sing. It’s all in the ear of the listener. Let them decide.”
from Douglas Moore’s Art of Quotation
“I don’t put labels on it, I just sing. It’s all in the ear of the listener. Let them decide.”
Nancy Wilson, singer, Grammy award winner, 1937-2018
from Beginning of Autumn: A Poem to Send to Tzu-yu by Su Tung-p’o
and now when both of us are old—
too late to look for a lost road,
too late, I’m afraid, to study the Way.
This fall I began talks to buy some land;
if I build a house, it should be done by spring.
Nights at Snow Hall, in wind and rain,
already I hear you talking to me.
translated by Burton Watson
Pear Blossoms by the Eastern Palisade by Su Tung-p’o
Pear blossoms pale white, willows deep green—
when willow fluff scatters, falling blossoms will fill the town.
Snowy boughs by the eastern palisade set me pondering—
in a lifetime how many springs do we see?
translated by Burton Watson
Leonard Durso 