Poems by David Budbill
From his new collection, While We've Still Got Feet:
What It Takes
Enough
of a house
to keep
the bugs and rain
out
in the summer,
stay warm
in
in the winter.
Books,
a few
musical instruments,
a garden,
silence,
some mountains,
maybe a cat.
Lies
Who you are and who
you think you are
are almost never the same.
Wang Wei
the ex-government official
seeking in his
retirement the solitude and
silence of his
Buddhist faith referred to his
retreat on the
Wang River as a shack. It was
a palatial estate
with servants everywhere.
He was a rich guy.
I call myself a recluse yet
I run around
almost as much as anyone.
Poets never tell the truth.
Ryokan Says
With what can I
compare this life?
Weeds floating on water.
And there you are with your
dreams of immortality
through poetry.
Pretty pompous --
don't you think? -- for a
weed floating on water?
