the floating world sutra

spring is only three days old and already the peepers are growing hoarse.

the windows are wide open tonight and the darkness settles by my feet.

the reflection in those windows has disappeared leaving me nothing of my self.

the rumble of a motorcycle on the distant interstate is passing like a summer storm.

the nearby river is invisible but one can always feel it in the air.

it's not that i've been here before but this airy space has never changed.

it'll be thirty-nine years tommorow that my father passed away.

it's three months yesterday that my mother left this floating world.

she came to visit in a dream last night, old and fading, and asked to see the lake for one last time.

i woke before we got there and then refused to dream that dream again knowing that it's just a dream.

tomorrow when i drive by that manifested river, my mother and father will be my thoughts.

water water everywhere and now and then a lovely light illusive wave.