With the gums gone
are teeth. And though the nose is after
the eye wants to see.
And now the heat
Of the radiator on the floor
is set, the even row of it
fit to raise
You will count five
You will stay in the midst of them,
You will know laughter, you will hear them
in the narrow rows of trees
In soft endlessness
Snow, sky salt
He lost his head
The color white. He walks
Over a cloud carpet made of
Without eyes or thumbs
He suffers holding onto nothing
But the hands quiver
In the soft endlessness
How fast a wound
His heart left.
Snow, sky salt sand
In the soft endlessness.
Blue-rooted heron, blue lake
night song, like me no traveler
Taking no rest, loose-winged water-bird
And dumb with music me.
I stand upon the waterfront, like him no traveler
stunned, dangling on loose wings.
Aching for flight, for water below
I float and take my rest.
They will not hunt us here
The flesh of the bird is music and is dumb.
The sound of an arrow, the sight of a hunter
is a life without wings.
So let us die for death alone is motion
And death alone will make these herons fly.
Let the wingless fly over the ocean
Let winglessness die.