her ankles . . .
the path into the mist
so endless!
January 2013
the moon . . .
the moon it becomes
in her eyes
one half
after the other . . .
full moon
rippling
in water's sound —
tadpoles
rainforest . . .
traces of a butterfly
incensing shadows
a tv somewhere
numbing the sound of nothing —
moonless night
morning fog —
the brushstrokes of a dream
painting day
summer rose —
the fire of its bloom
within its scent
these traces of dreams . . .
high winds shaping cloud layers
of indifference
new year leap . . .
the sound of water
near and far
before dawn . . .
a pilgrim among mangroves
sighing mist
ancient garden . . .
a slug retraces the glow
of its path
a blue rinse
of withering clouds . . .
wind from the west
fossil forest —
incoming waves obscure
another past
summer stream —
a mayfly breeding
shadows
summer stream —
does the mayfly in mating
know why?
summer shadows —
a Noh play unfolds
around me
dry winds . . .
a premonition
of green
night winds . . .
the ones that blew
in childhood
at year's end . . .
already the marbling
of her skin
pre-dawn chill . . .
backwash from night's flotilla
of dreams
expanding night . . .
the sound of a morepork
between stars
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