Napping at midday
I hear the song of rice planters
and feel ashamed of myself.

Lady of Silence
from the winsome cage of
thy body
rose
        through the sensible
night
a
quick bird

(tenderly upon
the dark’s prodigious face
thy
voice
         scattering perfume-gifted
wings
suddenly escorts
with feet
sun-sheer

the smarting beauty of dawn)

What words can't describe,
Is too often what's inside
Breaking apart the inner pure,
Destroying every single door.
Isolating all that's known,
Defying the science of the grown.

But as chaos makes his home,
The pen finds his poem,
And together they'll coincide
Inside the eyes of the blind
Until we learn to see what's true.