Muddy photographs at old house
black birds hanging out bare and brave,
sleeves of torn corpses and hanging bones
by the brown door,
but old man where are you?
Are you one of those?
Some one phoned me to come here
and that some one had a warm,alive voice.
Was that a man under claws,forced?
I cut the handles,
they fall into my hands
and termites were biting
the dust. Look,
what kind of
statue is that? On the stairway
and half awe commanding,
that statue of a lady with fresh flowers.
to see such statues here
and smelling of
lavender and green tea leaves,
like lotus in a pool of mud.
But old man. Where are you?
Are you side by side
with the sun,as evaporated air?
I don't know. If i knew i would not come.