Andy Barritt
ICCHANTIKA Head jolted off by an arc of lightningI wake with my face in sweating palms.The sky is light and the mountainslie crumpled like heaps of laundry.Jeans come out of storage, looser now,robes and samue are folded. No note – I already told you, You can’t trust methat day we visited your master’s tomb.Your scarf blew off, maybe you let it go,and was caught, fluttering, on a grave.When I’d retrieved it, like a good disciple,you’d said, Such honesty is why I do. But faith is no coin past the temple gate,which I leave, walking into the fieldsto feel the rain drip from face to furrowand begin the climb toward Mount Gorō:wishing to be nothing but a brush strokein a Daoist’s cloud painting.
Andy Barritt lives in the UK. He has an MA in Buddhist Studies and a BA in English and American Literature. His influences include Kenji Miyazawa and Ursula Le Guin. Other than reading and writing he enjoys ornithology and wuxia movies.
Andy Barritt lives in the UK. He has an MA in Buddhist Studies and a BA in English and American Literature. His influences include Kenji Miyazawa and Ursula Le Guin. Other than reading and writing he enjoys ornithology and wuxia movies.