Verse and song
The still surface lifted by morning fog
as if a bed sheet
that I’m beneath, in the silt, hair reaching,
skin frog-throat white
Buddha Loves Me, This I Know
Some folks act just like they hate ya/ But all dogs have a Buddha nature.
Searching for Bach
The cello sounded like heaven. Or whatever heaven sounds like when you’re twelve.
“People were getting auctioned up on stage but I didn’t see anything I wanted nor did I think I should be for sale.”