Their claws curl loosely, safely, about nothingness,
They clasp no things.
Direction and desire they possess
By which in sharp, unswerving flight they hold
Across an iron sea to the golden beach
Whereon lies carrion, their feast. A shore of gold
That birds wrought on a vase can never reach.

The Bow Moon
(A print by Hiroshige)

From the dawn, Take San,
Ungathered star,
Follow me back through night
Till I recapture
Evening.

(The bending hours of darkness
Sway apart like lilies
Before the backward-blowing wind.)

At last,
Bearing in her mysterious bosom
Unravished beauty,
Dark Yesterday rises to view against her silent sky
Irrevocable... secret...
Confronting the fantastic dream
Of an impossible Tomorrow.

And that frail bridge,