by the river the spinster wades
like a black swan
all alone not waiting for anyone
the bamboo leaves not blown
by any ill wind
begin to fall
one by one until all that can
be seen
are needles of morning light
cutting through
the early cold by the banks
to the marshes
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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