within this temporal body composed of a hundred bones and nine holes there resides a spirit which, for lack of an adequate name, i think of as windblown. like delicate drapery, it may be torn away and blown off by the least breeze. it brought me to writing poetry many years ago, initially for its own gratification, but eventually as a way of life. the above is by basho in the beginning of his "knapsack notebook" as translated by sam hamill. they are my sentiments exactly.
within this temporal body composed of a hundred bones and nine holes there resides a spirit which, for lack of an adequate name, i think of as windblo...
my father talked to me i was about five years old he said i was cherokee but, he said, your mother decided she wants you to be raised different so i can only tell you this, this once and we'll never talk about it again i hear him now in my old age feet on desk, staring out the window i think i found the way to what he tried to tell me a communal sense of giving is what you are giving the best of what you decide to be i taught, and thought of childhood my own, and what my father gave to me all others, and what they should be my gift to all is this way of learning through craft of hands,...
my father talked to me i was about five years old he said i was cherokee but, he said, your mother decided she wants you to be raised different so i c...
