fog walker the millipede’s carpet of legs
wearing my halo of poison
Spring Mountain (renku)
spring mountain snowdrifts rotting in the sun old coyote scat mouse bones in mouse fur petrichor the dry skin of … More
on my bed
When I was a Buddha, my radiant body rang like a bell.
a gall wasp’s
empty oak apple
gone to seed
I dreamed the angel of death was a bland functionary
who kept giving me forms to fill out.
A small box of leftover parts
from all the broken things I tried to fix.
Walking in the snow,
one feels at times barely tethered to the earth.
A face in profile
is like a folded wing. A sleeping face is a dry riverbed with the faint sound of water somewhere below.
Lay me in a fist-sized hole
feathered with rime.