02 Buson

… crows end their flight, one by one, as they return to roost at the end of the day…

… even holy people crap in the fields…

… a tree, the blow of an ax, the scent of pine, all this in the woods, in the winter…

… Buson poems seem only to be about the here and now recorded as succinctly as possible…

… i can’t decide if i like Buson… i miss the layered interpretations of Basho’s poems, the nod to spiritual dimensions… in Buson, the spiritual is entirely contained within the moment… is not a separate thing… could that be the message?… we find meaning if we engage with the moments, pay attention, notice them… commit them to a poem so we can remember them…