Your friends love you but
They’ll never grow into your thistled shoes—
The suffering you show as you lean into the window.
Up against the sun—they feel small, too.
The comportment of waiting is based on people who are kind
and willing to wait.
They don’t understand the fraction of a cat’s life.
This, I thought, is the only dream
I’ll ever have:
Blue purple
Blue red
And the faithful grey binding a short-lived shadow
Of humankind to the green of home.
In an unexpected clearing
I heard the voice of God
The moonlight laid bare
And the silver trees all took a side
To where I was.
The voice said, love is important
To love songs. And so love is important.
I dream present tense.
The past is August— a series of memories
Mt. Fuji from thirty six points of view,
Wheat fields,
The blue and yellow skin I never
Quite saw.
