Green to the eye
begets the visage: life-
Startlingly simple,
a color tells it all.

So ‘tis with the note
and the morning earth is smelly-
I ask,
by what happy accident
is everything made plain?

Like a dog bearing its belly
or a moth sleeping in daylight-
the unapparent thing of life
these words just cannot say.

Somebody I never knew
already passed by here.
Myself a traveler,
a stranger local,
told me so, my dear.

I long to meet,
and retire at last
into your willing arms,
wherefrom then, my friend,
will we await the end.

But for now,
I travel on, in search of you,
my dear, whose soulful gaze
has drenched my soul
into the continuing days.

What should I say to you,
Other soul,
Who sparks a funny feeling in my heart

Some time set aside for a long-distance friend,
Sound like a prayer,
An indulgence in friendship, but food for the soul

boem
da wurd get put in da field
big ol grammar
big nemeanin
we say gud ting
or say Emotshun
du not mattuh
boem sez

How great the space when without us,
how far stars seem to be,
when you, me, and the whole world by
parts just cyclically.

Are greetings sorrow
til tomorrow?
Are parents here to be?
Is absence kinder,
desire blind
to sheer simplicity?

Something immense, beyond the scope,
helps me here to see,
only the things I am shown
to not belong to me.

526

To hear an Oriole sing
May be a common thing—
Or only a divine.

It is not of the Bird
Who sings the same, unheard,
As unto Crowd—

The Fashion of the Ear
Attireth that it hear
In Dun, or fair—

So whether it be Rune,
Or whether it be none
Is of within.

The “Tune is in the Tree—”
The Skeptic—showeth me—
“No Sir! In Thee!”