sometimes my ears were bitter
when the birds had flown away
cold sphinx on the bookshelf
blind kid thinking about
the speed
of the moon—
thinking
of dead silence
he’d so much time
on his hands
cherry trees
glints of sunshine
which he saw
at the edges
**
butterfly wings–fluttering
under the spell
of every life
that is born
**
sospiri…
resting tired eyes
on piano keys
**
there “were” good afternoons
the Great Caruso and Helen Keller—
the tenor guiding her fingers
across his throat as he sang
As with so many things
The fierce beauties…
**
snow journey
humming on a train
a stranger tells me
the moon is full
Planet of the Blind 