Alone

Sitting beneath
A single moon
--a thousand leaves
Pass away.

A thousand tastes
A single tongue
Distraction and revelation
Together.

Listening
To the artist
Who loves her own work
While my vision
Is of the everyday
Everyday.

The poet lies in wait
Of the poem.

And you usually find it, Peter.

Great closing lines Peter. In my experience the poem arises from my constant searching for a word, or in other cases searching for an end to the story that began as an idea.

Les

this started with all those years reading translations of Japanese poetry,
went on to a conversation with an artist,
including an idealistic self-characterization,
and ended with an observation of the process

The last line clenched it.