talk to the person whose
job is to make it clear, whose
way is the sun's Way
hiding from the moon billowing
and we cling to each other
to
the time before dreams ifwhen
the forgetting passes us
by the river clothing hangs to dry
we fish & catch nothing, bait
resting in water's edge
(This is not not-zen zen, just
being lazy)
He says the fish
belongs to the moon, blind as.
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