what do we listen to?
what stands between
fingertips and the soil
that feeds, feeds, feeds
on the bad luck?
gives, in return,
understanding and
a great urge to cry
when i find
blood red leaves falling
from the sky
what do we hold?
0515AM: condensation on a glass of water
and my gaze.
sweet pigeon seraphim, blessed be your nest
i felt myself not a visitor, but a guest.
the fulcrum point 