Bright white cockatoo
like a flag on a bulwark
gainst the tide of night

The world is a mirror
in which the Self sees itself -
night brings gusts of rain.

Ink-black winter storm,
creating its opposite,
whips the ocean white

like a well-thumbed book
the gate opens easily
-the overgrown path

(after Borges)

Desirous of breathing
the fragrance of Truth's springtime
we welcome the Breeze.

Teakwood cupboard
Steeped in the deep night of jungles
- the goddess of sleep...

by a hidden path
in Autumn's forgiving sun
a rose opens

a million hearts drum
for an elephant procession
- April clouds

always looking at

future, past and present

the mind is blinded 

From distant hills
a grey but rainless sky stretches
to distant hills

(After Kafka)

laid down over ages
the strata of crisp-cut pages
-brand-new history book

Molten, the idol "I",
in the blue crucible
of the summer sky

in the stillness
between two waves of the sea -
vilamba sandbar


(first two lines from TS ELiot)

A subtle anniversary -
this soul has completed 
an orbit of Self


-Jeronimus

girls' wear mannequin -
its hand-sewn sequin heart
speaks of sweatshops

-Jeronimus

In the courtyard 
of the temple of the sky
blooms a flower.

- Jeronimus, after Kabir

All that remains of
the infinite sea of night
are these words of ink


Jeronimus (inspired by a haiku by Jorge Luis Borges)

Rescued from the ferns
the grey watering can will rain
for the vanished clouds

-Jeronimus

The evening sky
is an old master painting
of a blue-ware bowl
-Jeronimus

Like gold, this blue runs
molten in the crucible 
of the summer sky
-Jeronimus

Like Isis' sistrum
cicadas' summer shimmer
exorcises thought
-Jeronimus

Kookaburras call
in jungles they've never seen,
thanks to Hollywood.

-Jeronimus

A cool conflagration 
roaring in the high canopy.
I melt in summer's forge.

-Jeronimus

Evening

In the night that comes,
these trees will still be green,
this sky still blue.
-Jeronimus

Cypress pines - brushes
dipped in the infinite ink
of marine winds

-Jeronimus

on the warming lawn
various grasses compete
like warring kingdoms


-Jeronimus

Plumes upon the green Earth's helm
bending in the still chill wind.
-Poplars by the roadside.

-Jeronimus
('upon' is archaic but it sounds well with plume and poplar)

Spring-summer

On the boundary
a hedge sends errant tendrils
toward the summer


-Jeronimus

Immortality

high fine clouds like phoenix plumes
- a sickle moon scythes past lives
In afternoon blue

-Jeronimus

Who is the Poet?

No subject comes to mind -
the whole vibrating world's a poem
with sun and moon for metre.

Blue and Gray

Weeks of gray skies
brushed away by a cold blue wind.
New slates cover blue sarking.
-Jeronimus

Early Winter

a single shining sound
in the darkness before dawn,
- the rain-quickened stream

-Jeronimus

Perfuming the mind with depth
the wind from the sea
brings bursts of rain.

-Jeronimus

Purusha

The sound of distant thunder -
Personhood expands to fill all space.
Sudden, brilliant, as the lightning bolt.

-Jeronimus

All night, drop by drop,
the owl's incessant question.
The mind overflows with it.

-Jeronimus

Like the shimmering sound of
shell beaches sifted by summer waves
- a sea breeze in the leaves.

-Jeronimus

A reverse universe:
blue clouds in a white sky -
jacaranda trees, overcast day

-Jeronimus

The jacaranda is a tree with blue to purple-blue blossoms, native to Central and South America.

A great river flows,
irrigating the senses
through a few simple lines.

-Jeronimus

thriving in deep shade,
cliveas make their own suns
of bright, warm orange

-Jeronimus

green like copper domes,
tenacious to the hot-plate slate -
lichen on the summer roof

-Jeronimus