Bending the forked-stick to find
underground water...

Like a snowfox
it stampedes...

Motionless within the ambit
of moon...

Unimpeachable,
the shrine wants to move on...

Moon stepped gingerly on clouds.
Apples were painless...

I will make amends with me today,
stop fighting with myself...

It was lack of contusion.
The relief had not come. Hours...

Don't you agree with my ability
to loosen up on our times in no night...

All night November,
I was searching the vulnerable...

A midnight craft
dumps the moon...

A preacher was shedding
dirty tears...

Without assent
I open your book...