Wednesday, October 28, 2020

Under the Basho, 2020

we amble
along an esker's spine
gravel shifting
into small symphonies
underneath our boots


ghost moths . . .
mother's pale hands
f l u t t e r
around the light
of her memories


sacred waters . . .
we sleep among pods
of sperm whales
suspended upright
in the ocean's belly

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