with a drip-drop honey voice





off clear bells:

a baby born in green morning dew





warm milk-coffee hair, cows

grazing on the marigold fields





autumn leaves pass

with a crinkling golden death





on their descent


red hue, lantern’s thrashing





with acidic linen sheets

a boy hides among





the pound pound pound

listen





I find myself in the middle

face sweat glistening





nothing to do now

but watch and hear and tell


until the blood moon sinks down





below the slow distilling waters

against my fogged mirror





and flitting eyes of Persian blue