the grass fire can be seen
raising its smokes

He watches the weather’s sepia

even if it looks at you
without uneasiness or hate

practicing the lash
on his wooden top
a child stays very real

There is a mushroom called
solitary inkwell
also black egg

then he can do nothing but sleep
repudiating
childhood and adulthood and old age.

A soft body fills itself with silence.

The hour has the flavor of its time.

in complete peace a body bares itself

dry bread keeps
a taste of the legend

the reflecting pool is stagnant
deserts pursue their mirages.