An imbecile Knows their limitations Often As a cantor Of the ancient rites.
i have Released No spells In the measures And cuffs Of my simple suppleness.
Once i whispered a chant And as a result A family Of sparrows took Up a nest In my unartful throat.
Throat singing-- My ears No longer hear The notes Of the stars. Only My heart Is luminous With the beats With the chirps Of those beings Who disturb our sleep With simple sublimity, Of inward infinities Of words.