photo-11Ho ho!

Bet you thought I forgot. Not so.

(Okay, truth: I forgot/remembered forgot/remembered forgot/remembered/forgot….remembered.)

For today and tomorrow, since at 9:38 p.m. PST I’m sort of straddling two days, I bring you five poems by Basho (1644-1694), Zen Buddhist and perhaps the most famous Haiku writer of all time.

 

In my new robe

this morning—

someone else.

 

 

 

Year by year,

the monkey’s mask

reveals the monkey.

 

 

 

If I’d the knack

I’d sing like

cherry flakes falling.

 

 

 

Violets—

how precious on

a mountain path.

 

 

 

To the willow—

all hatred, and desire

of your heart.

 

 

 

 

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