George Evans
Ryokan as an Old Man
Bones are pine
their elbows crook
and nothing straight
save the trunk
where it enters
is stable.
The birds
with no concept
of difference in
earth or sky
are pure motion.
The dawn bell
counts men and leaves.
A wave,
another -
water rashed
against stone -
behind my shoulder
the wave and then
a dream
Page(s) 24
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