the winter anthology Vol. 12
from Earth Light
Bright crowns and hills that wreathe
The innards of the nightingale.
A laugh whose inner bark
Scrapes against the olive leaves, dark green
And gray green, citations of aloha,
Movements of the cross.
From the outside
We are all tormented, jangling our bracelets
From heaven, its rural scent of knowing
What acts are now before us.