my home
a fragment moonlight
at the window
–Basho
h a n d s
that day I held
your hand, actually
looked at its structure.
wondered at its
bridge, saw the firm
veins, then the
open palm, its lines
unlike mine, then
the unique gesture-
your clasp…
the purest thing.
After ten years, I
found your soul in
the form and manner
of your hands.
© c. allen
Ph. Masao Yamamoto
“Slowly, slowly, slowly, it dies, my heart.”
…and I sunk beneath the amorous sadness of night
- arthur rimbaud
