a prison of sunlight tanka
a prison of sunlight on my skin — wildflowers sing to me, the dust of the dead dances on my tongue
Posts
in bad faith - a mystical tanka
in bad faith— our sun or then again the moon against a flat abyss, a groundless ground
a walk through the painted sky tanka
walking through the painted sky — in this prison I count and recount bones in the blaze of morning
