Even if I
were a god or a buddha
you’d be on my mind. I sit beneath
the lamp, a skinny monk chanting love
songs. The fierce autumn wind nearly
bowls me over and my heart
is choked with thick
clouds.
Even if I
were a god or a buddha
you’d be on my mind. I sit beneath
the lamp, a skinny monk chanting love
songs. The fierce autumn wind nearly
bowls me over and my heart
is choked with thick
clouds.