N  a  p a  l  m     H  e  a  l  t  h     S  p  a  :     R  e  p  o  r  t     2  0  1  2






Richard III (1592-1593)


     Happiness is the art of never holding in your mind
     the memory of any unpleasant thing that has passed.
The Buddha


At first dash
like a circle in the lake
what I have said is true,


but in my memory books
everything is faced with artifice—
tailored for a story I’ve now told

so many times it’s become a ritual,
and what really happened
comes back only in dreams.


As the shadow of an eagle searches for a mouse
under the snow that covers the stubble
that’s left after harvest


I stand between my shadow and the sun.
I am only where I’ve been and what I’ve seen.
I step into wherever happens next.


What was I saying? I was in the
middle of a story. I could begin again
if you tell me where I stopped.


The brittle alabaster moon,
I’m not sleeping, a notebook
that once was full of words.




[Excerpt from The Shakespeare Poems.]