winter sunrise

on an empty stomach
trying not to stare

day moon

through bare branches
with its horns out

I was trying to find another world. It was right here all along.

hunter’s cap
a bell-like sound
from the raven’s throat

of the wolf
mother tree

the mountain cut open
by a new road

you too
have never existed

on the side of the road
ready for winter

You can see farther this time of year because there’s so much less to see.

ridgetop wind
speaking in the voice
of a raven

the trees’ white skeletons
when I close my eyes

sun shriveling
in effigy

When I was a Buddha, my radiant body rang like a bell.

a gall wasp’s
empty oak apple
gone to seed

shadows open
their wings