間

snow could be 

warm like pale 

bear fur

i think i'm searching for

the place where sound

is ice and

warm 

like a fawn who has become 

the snow

 

lost and 

remaining lost

when you've cooked the marrow of the sun and moon,
the pearl is so bright you don't worry about poverty

enter the hero

to sit still and watch birds on trees is akin to sitting still and allowing the original brushstrokes of intelligence hidden by refuse to be illuminated.

.

birds, the sometimes-silent sometimes-singing watchers and doers of Earth, are life's constants, your relative minutiae of infinitude as projected into the external.

wind, sometimes-invisible sometimes-suggested-by-tree-branch-movements, is the unchanging universe.

.

so often do i find myself torn between something like two possible worlds.

much less often do i allow this opposition to combine as nothingness.

贤

life is so vast, it carries the opposite in itself osho (1930-90)

captured

自画

the refugee seeks

music again,
familiar rooms hidden
deep and empty spaces
in sound here

sleep one
thousand years in a
cocoon the
color of burnt amber -

white sun
illumine velvet
-green leaves
tasting of
old dust
y air

 . . .

bring me a glass of brandy, darling, would you please?

自刻

there are notes that sound so alone...

so desolate are their worlds

so brave,
so quiet

自刷

blanketing the garden

snow

自

an outstretched hand

yours, dimly lit

beckoning