Monday, February 01, 2010

snail on a dandelion leaf
opens a hole of empty white light
in the spiral of his shell
his mucus-trail turns to hottest fire

the dandelion clock goes
rapidly back to yellow after firing its seeds
into the dying
pink horizon.

I offer my palm
to the inching of this visitor
from a dimension of tightly-woven,
never-dying, heavily compacted light.

He crawls through a faint stigmata
the only part of my hand that is still there.

2 comments:

愛鋒頭 said...

No pains, no gains..........................

LukeBuckham said...

I hope we die at the same time. Or at least while eating the same brand of tunafish.