deafness



mycelium 
breathes up 
through the 
ground like the 
sacred fingers of 
Vishnu while 
the blackash-line 
of clouds 
moves like a dead song 
over insignificant pastures, 

and a bicycle 
takes its peddler 
beyond the mouth of a hill 
that whispers like the permission of Buddha, 
but I can't hear it. 
 




**** 

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