The oil drop in the puddle shines, the city lights up
street posts one by one
the lonely woman sews smiles on her canvas
landscapes blur, criss-cross, breaking-
rusted window frames count years in silence.
The brush strokes say a lot,
free of poetic trickery and complexities-
one line is more, one word the less
makes a little picture infused
with magic rhythm and belief to stretch.
The soft ache and the red mushroom
draw sketches with liquid lines.
to go back, to feel everything once more
streets move with slow paces
the letters that arrive, can be read between the lines.
*Shodo is the Japanese art of calligraphy that’s created with brush