Friday, November 11, 2016




Half-awake, I breathe in the night.

In the murky mind-sky, there are movements.

Jewel-hued by shades of un-named colors, countless stars appear and dance.

We're all flying now, passing through -- a gateway of fire, a ring of golden light.

Nightingale, I must be moon-dazzled.











They say that Leonard Cohen passed away yesterday.

Fare thee well, nightingale.

when trees as gilded as bees

Above the 61st parallel, the colors of Autumn mark our parting with the bees, and the last days of real warmth. I had begun to transl...

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