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
who kept giving me forms to fill out.
from all the broken things I tried to fix.
one feels at times barely tethered to the earth.
is like a folded wing. A sleeping face is a dry riverbed with the faint sound of water somewhere below.
feathered with rime.