Self Portrait




A red, firey circle,
Is my mind's horizon.
Passed by the bird-thoughts,
The sky from my heart
Is always clear and blue.
The imagination's eternal icicles,
Glass and ivory towers,
Pierce whitey, day after day,
The concentric, diffuse, space.
And down,
The thick,
Humble, green grass
Is the absolute master.

(June 1, 2001)