I’ve long loved this haiku by Japanese poet and Buddhist priest Kobayashi Issa (1763 – 1828), here translated by Jane Hirshfield. On a...

Because the moon shines through the tree I love you. No. Because I love you the moon shines through the tree.

Like dreams, they seem impossible. Imagine creating both snare and home from something like spit.

The feathered hour. The Muse of bruises presses the snarled, tender genealogies. Light slurs from golden to the blue afterlight of...