AAA~Field Notes from Two Worlds – Basho Style Version

I. Morning / City

Subway grate—
steam rises through
last night’s newspapers.

Between tower and tower
a thin corridor of sky.
Pigeons know it by heart.

II. Morning / Forest

Between pine and pine
the deer’s narrow passage—
moss, undisturbed.

First light finds
the spider’s night work.
She sleeps at the edge.

III. Graffiti / Lichen

EXIST, already fading
on the concrete pillar.
Even rebellion grows old.

Orange lichen spreads
across the boulder’s north face—
a hundred years of saying yes.

IV. The Map

Chalk dust on her fingers,
the substitute teacher draws
escape routes, 1987.

Now, tracking moose,
I follow the same curves—
need always finds its path.

V. Underground

In the subway tunnel,
the smell of rain
that isn’t there.

Beneath the forest floor,
mycelium threads connect
what seems separate.

VI. Coyote

Michigan Avenue, dawn—
she trots past the locked shops,
original citizen.

VII. Territory

Shopping cart’s broken wheel
draws its sound-map
through empty streets.

Barred owl calls
from the fire escape—
both worlds answer.

VIII. Go Masters / Cairn

In the park, old men
place stones. Each click
contains a small death.

By the trail,
I stack three rocks.
Tomorrow, fallen.

IX. What Remains

The tagger’s name
smaller each year—
yoga studio, wine bar, gone.

Bear claw marks
on the boundary pine—
growing fainter as bark heals.

X. Evening

The bridge hums.
The loon calls.
Same key.

XI. Translation

I carry two notebooks—
one for spray paint,
one for moss.

Both record
what is already
disappearing.

After the journey:

City and forest—
in the space between them,
I am home.

The graffiti fades.
The lichen grows.
Both are writing the truth.