haiku for architecture 


summer


how cool cut hay smells

when carried through the farm gate

as the sun comes up!



it’s hot, it’s hot

each portal the sigh.



nestled in green mountains 

white walls

buddha in every detail



what a wonderful

day!  No one in the village

doing anything. 



fiercely stalwart face

smacked against incessant blue

holds the earth to sky



bent down by a storm, 

ripe heads of barley, bowing,

narrow my pathway



through all the fall

of June rains it still stands? 

oh, Shining Hall! 


 

they rolled out too far

from their leaf shelter, melons-

and how hot they are!



at the butterflies

the caged bird gazes, envying-

just watch its eyes!



what a pretty kite

the beggar’s children fly high

above their hovel!



sacred memory? 

or place to picnic and play? 

profoundly profane. 



in the city fields 

contemplating cherry trees

strangers are like friends. 



caged for our safety

by framing mother nature

let's enjoy the view



 brush-roofing the house

they reinforce the ridge



you poured the wall wrong

did you look at the drawings? 

get the jackhammer


 

bamboo-grated footing

the bathroom is cheerless

 


wide without his presence

seems the wooden floor. 



back in my home town

even the flies aren’t afraid

to bite a big man.



a brushwood gate:

in place of a lock-

this snail. 



warehouses in a row-

behind them is a road, where swallows

come and go.



through the center of the town

flows a little river; here

willow trees hang down. 



we made car the king,

the helpless pedestrian,

in despair seeks space!!



symphony of space 

tectonic celebration 

enduring design  (6)



structure is refuge

logic in architecture

beauty and function 

 


armed with compass,

and a finely tuned angle,

I conquer my space 




sketchup or revit?

handsome buildings by the hour

progressive design 




drinking the kool-aid

hey, this tastes a little strange 

loving tilt-up now




diagonal line

don’t tempt me, ‘cause i’ll do it

no, you wouldn’t dare




the summer river: 

although there is a bridge, my horse

goes through the water. 



on hands and knees I go

across the rope bridge, and a cuckoo

starts singing-from below!



smoking a cigar

totally naked and exposed

miesian perfection 



a temple in the hills: 

the snoring from a non siesta-

and a cuckoo’s trills. 



one man and one fly

buzzing together alone

in a sunny room…



friend, that open mouth

reveals your whole interior

silly hollow frog. 



away from the norm 

transgress and experience 

existential space. 



improve the city

ha, what hippie ideals

rather line pockets 




the artist creates

architectural  statements

cleverness is key



among the graffiti

one illuminated name:

yours. 




one dream all heroes

find to be true...cool green grass

on forgotten tombs



green tatami

level lie

in the moon shade



all the rains of June: 

and one evening, secretly, 

through the pines, the moon. 



in town 

the smells of things

summer moon

 


on the temple bell

has settled, and is glittering, 

a firefly. 



a horsefly mutters

loud in the shining hollow

of a temple bell.



asleep in the sun

on the temple’s silent bronze

bell, a butterfly…



moonlit night

on the hill among miscanthus

the shrine guard



the bridge is down, 

and people stand upon the bank, 

the summer moon…



comes to donate

trout, does not enter, passes on-

midnight gate.



short the night has been:

close beside my pillow

stands a silver screen.


tonight in this town

where i was born, my only

friends are the crickets. 

 


autumn >


<spring