Stranger Fruit

Category archives for Poetry

Friday Poem (0425)

Riding the Ox Home Riding the ox home, taking it easy, The flute’s notes vanish in the evening haze. Tapping time to a folk song, happy as can be – It’s all too much for words. K’uo-an (trans. Stanley Lombardo) [image source]

Friday Poem (0418)

Taming the Ox Don’t lose the whip, hold onto the rope Or he’ll buck away into the dirt. Herded well, in perfect harmony He’ll follow along without any constraint. K’uo-an (trans. Stanley Lombardo) [image source]

Friday Poem (0411)

Catching the Ox Last desperate effort, got him! Hard to control, powerful and wild, The ox sprints up a hill and at the top. Disappears into the misty clouds. K’uo-an (trans. Stanley Lombardo) [image source]

Friday Poem (0403)

Seeing the Ox Oriole in the branch chirps and chirps, Sun warm, breeze through the willows. There is the ox, cornered, alone. That head, those horns! Who could paint them? K’uo-an (trans. Stanley Lombardo) [image source]

Friday Poem (0328)

Finding the Tracks Along the river, under trees – jumbled tracks! Thick fragrant woods, is this the way? Though the ox wanders far in the hills, His nose touches the sky. He cannot hide. K’uo-an (trans. Stanley Lombardo) [image source]

Friday Poem (0320)

Looking for the Ox Searching through tall endless grass,Rivers, mountain ranges, the path trails off.Weary, exhausted, no place left to hunt:Maples rustle, evening, the cicada’s song. K’uo-an (trans. Stanley Lombardo) [image source]

Friday Poem (0201)

The Story of Isaac The door it opened slowly,My father he came in,was nine years old.And he stood so tall above me,His blue eyes they were shiningAnd his voice was very cold.He said, Ive had a visionAnd you know Im strong and holy,I must do what Ive been told.So he started up the mountain,I was…

Friday Poem (0125)

> Kindred Musing, between the sunset and the dark, As Twilight in unhesitating hands Bore from the faint horizon’s underlands, Silvern and chill, the moon’s phantasmal ark, I heard the sea, and far away could mark Where that unalterable waste expands In sevenfold sapphire from the mournful sands, And saw beyond the deep a vibrant…

Friday Poem (0118)

Epitaph An old willow with hollow branches slowly swayed his few high bright tendrils and sang: Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood’s edge. William Carlos Williams

Friday Poem (0111)

Continuing from Monday’s mustelid … River-Mates I’ll be an otter, and I’ll let you swim A mate beside me; we will venture down A deep, dark river, when the sky above Is shut of the sun; spoilers are we, Thick-coated; no dog’s tooth can bite at our veins, With eyes and ears of poachers; deep-earthed…