Listen to the Fragrance

Listen to the Fragrance

In the basin of Kyoto the people dream

of dragons rising from fast rivers where ghosts gleam;

The lighthouse marks a focal point for Buddha clouds

Floating above the right-angles and pane-glass crowds;

The beams of the Amida-do hold with thick ropes

of women’s hair, breakable hemp, and braided hopes;

And sea god Ryujin answers a clap that soars

In Shokokuji where a dragon in wood roars.

The Noh gone from the open fields keeps the white stones;

The back wall has a painted pine in gold green tones;

Eternal distance backgrounds the evergreen line;

The hana breathes transcendence, the pine breathes divine;

A grasp works a hangi of cherry-blossom years;

On the karakami plane Buddha clouds appear;

As the mica dries in the mystic candlelight

the alighting clouds become fire-poem sprites in flight.

In the manga store they hear the hyoshigi

clapping news of the gaito who like a benshi

tells painted-picture stories of hero wide eyes;

Manga and anime fans view kamishibai,

Sip sencha tea from Uji and eat apple sweets,

laughing like old-timers in their best theatre seats.

The calm nun cuts agarwood for burning incense;

She tells them they can achieve serene transcendence;

She buries hot coal in ash, firms the heap around,

With a fire iron makes a hole in the ash mound,

lays a mica plate on the hole, sets the wood down,

and shapes her prayerful hands into an angel’s gown;

She says take your time and listen to the fragrance;

The calm scent is a divine lesson in patience;

Yeats spent the whole morning listening to incense,

Hummed out the feel of words in the room next to Pound’s;

Then he walked down to the village to buy a stamp;

But the post office was closed and he was surprised;
It was Christmas day; he felt double-lock surprise.