my heart walks in sunlight and feels itself fade—
while chimes turn wind
into creation

from my window i studied mulberry branches—
             dormant rhythms of nights and days,
of unrepeatable worlds to be

the sole of the foot
treads on beauty—
those smooth tracks
across the sea
i couldn't
have made and
cannot follow

under other skies
            is there deeper longing
for the damp electricity from which we come

i hear the blood ask us
                         if we are alive—
the heart remembering what it does not recognize

      Vanishing points


where the apple tree rose
            from the earth
when i learned to live as a soul

a memory that opens the road is what we want :: honey drawn raw from the moon

when the windows of the bonfire seethed open :: not one of my old failures was there

that hollow in the west where the sun dissolves :: salt gathering in the ripples of life

winds hang silent and limp in the rain :: lives lived without having happened

in the weariness of spring :: all my fences fell asleep :: the unknown began speaking to its neighbor

the cup of my tulip is infinitely deep :: blood islands floating through murmurs of light

grasses of eternity grow over my roof :: a message drifts through the sky

morning flew away with wings that never crossed a dream :: morning left standing in rain

...and the hands of white orchids have no other purpose :: than to lose themselves in the heart 

my name is the hammering which never ceases :: a secret with wings that knows no rest

what no one was interested in (a death in which)
                                                         gave him a way of being (the music keeps playing)

don't yellow sands and lost bones know the world ends without grief

there is a tulip here in the darkness :: no moon to stand beneath