who am I?
what I'm writing
what I've published
Whispers From The Rice Fields
Dreams echo in the winter of words.
Everywhere knife blades. Sharp, relentless ...
Trapped in humid air, endless echoes vanquish sleep ...
Pheasant calls, mist a gentle cloak ...
Lily pads floating.
Darkness deep; moon veiled this night.
Boatmen dance, geese sleep. 2005.
lightness touched darkness, haunting melodic echoes ...