A short while ago I wrote a poem for a creative prompt by a good friend, and in the same week I made a collage for another creative challenge. As it turns out, the two influenced each other and even though the poem initially had a different resonance for me, I increasingly started to read it in a way that seemed to talk about the depiction in the collage.
High pressure
after Matsuo Bashō
outside the sounds of summer
i hear the birds and grasses
sing of a gold coiled and all
enveloping, but still that
gold is foreign to me – it remains
out of reach and out of
my way as if the warrior’s
hearsay is the final dream
