sound consumes the year.
i live alone in the forest with 2 tigers.
midst rain song an' rain call
haibun
in a night's moment i turn, and behind my trail, Krishna's footprints,
distinguished by signs, barley, autumn lotus, the goad, a fallen hand
marked by a discus. i wash the dust off the the ikon's hair, stay amazed
of the chariot of blinking star-eyes
repeat the god
a smile traceable as
the bracelets slacken
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