the heart is a coffer tanka
the heart is a coffer holding the image of light within us ... a bird in flight
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Only the Rumor
Only the Rumor Published in Salt River Review Volume 13, Number 1 & 2, Fall/Winter 2010 I, who have rarely seen sanity, or a caravan of Siberian huskies stroll with their pack through the soft white snow, have no appreciation for winter's twilight-silence, or the ruckus of grizzlies ravaging my provisions. I ask: Is anyone willing to put their hand in place of mine on the chopping block, or their signature on paper to demand investigations into all that has been stolen on my passage through this life? I have not witnessed tenderness, nor do I feel excitement upon observing the child fed from the safety of its mother's hands. Only rumors of the existence of distant cities, where harsh winters outlast serene summers, accelerate the rhythm of my blood. That chill is mine. I, who have rarely felt reason, have played with water and snow. I've wrapped them around my legs, given them form with my hands like a lover.
my secret hiding place tanka
my secret hiding place... the boy I was calls out to me in noises that he makes?