Sunday, September 09, 2007


Between the sky and my body
beyond the trees
a bird carries a small memory.
Days, hills, works
filled with earth.

Like someone breathing.
Then space
clings to appearance.
Like the bird, like light
simple and strange.

The hill, green and red
a day with white horizons
these necessities, this chance.
A song carries a great memory
like someone breathing.

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