i forgot i wrote this one....it was in aspen. a few years ago
and i dont believe in a process. they come out. like the breath. maybe i scratch out a word. then im done with them.
the evening
I sat in wet grass
starlight dusted
my hair.
and i remember
brushing back
the mycelia
of the heavens
with my concentration.
attention
attention
attention
and yet,
the twinkle
remains.
-daigu
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