tanka Sequence
tanka Sequence reading with the lamp on I see a crater where our bed last lay… we watch the distance burn you are the last ring of smoke to be held tight… we’re lucky we’re not art, I’m a full cup of water how silent the trees how loud the shots of hunters how broken the crow wings…how hidden the pocket knife tearing desire sunken moon my mind suspended in the sky… moonlight cannot polish stone or pester our transparencies