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Poem	(after hiroshige – stations of oi) here at the sixty-ninth station of the gregokaido road i have a sense of completion that is not completed yet the long journey to this moment has many disparate paths fragments of people within me have stuttered their broken mantras what a bowl of uneasy pieces litters the well of my bed - my name doesn't know how to welcome tomorrow with its single demands this christmas will say goodbye to the last traces of middle age the sere's banners will be ready to set off on its late procession i have not gathered myselves together with anything like that composure wisdom and age should concoct i have lost control of my strivings christmas a game of new birth the light giving hope to the dark i wish i had the will to recover the young coals that kept me bright
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