--poem before my 10th annual mountain pilgrimage in 2017
Don't get me wrong. She was gorgeous.
Tan legs like long pines.
Laguna Caldera eyes.
Pink dress like a neon camellia.
But she wore her saturated red dust materialism on her sleeve
and like all of Mara's daughters
came bearing honey-covered hooks.
She lamented the dating scene in this dirty old town.
I nodded, smiled, knowingly.
it was almost as if she wanted to hold my purchase hostage
but I already had a date
with a bottle of seishu
and my lady the moon.
_ _ _ _
Horns from a train cry in the distance.
A light coral sunset drops.
Steam rises from a dark sea-green tokkuri.
Kusatsu-Bushi pipes into my ears.
I imagine I am wandering in a far away city
where people actually know me;
where no matter where you are within it
you can see the turning leaves on the mountain.
(c) 2017 / Frank LaRue Owen (Wandering Stone Lantern) / purelandpoetry.com