Buddha of the North

Buddha of the North

Buddha of the North

Noon-time dreams

                                no-toed destination

Humming              whispers

               gather in the sickle

                                                of a jack-

                                                                in-

                                                                 a-

                                             pulpit chair—

There…    there…

              a blade in the inner ear

                           tin air

                                       eyelids like a carpet

              misty blues part lips

thick thick

             to a browned oasis where

clay and speech hone no weight

                          suspended like belief

Poet: Severino Profeta Reyes

©  Severino Profeta Reyes
All rights reserved