poor, yes.
poor in that
what he does
more than once
is considered
routine.

there is no one to do the abandoning.

the last of a kind
had all these
thoughts
and first
choice.

she turns her back on beauty
and is abandoned.

I put god under my wing.
he makes it real.

my dogma for his koan
for my koan
for her.

it is not struck
after all
this tree
where the lightning
bolt
starts.

higher birds
strike a chord
in god’s hand
on god’s fork.