An examination of language, and the music each of us creates on a daily basis. The song of our voices, as we sing to one another. At heart, we are all poets. We sing a joyous song to one another when we ask for catsup, respond to questions, and love. We think in dreams expressive as any poem and we dream with words more vivid than any color crayola has ever created.
5
this is not my mountain
buddha said,
and this is not my hand
wrinkled & curling in front
of this what that is not my face.
the ground swelled to meet the feet
buddha borrowed to stand
one sole on the mountain
the other sole in the sea
buddha smiled with someone else’s teeth.
posted by Lane at 10:15 PM
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