Amitabha in the garden (for Chris)

flowers

Amitabha in the garden

Cross-legged at the heart’s bellows

Reddens like burning wood

Ash trembling on his limbs. Works quietly, as

fish glow under the dark silk surfaces

and the great heads of sunflowers tick and blaze

twisting and seed-spilling

all over the pathways.

 

Everywhere, the sound of bells

big as thunder, small as bees

from the mouths of the flowers

hooked on a line of sunlight

says: there is no falling back,

nothing to hide, in this limitless space,

so go on ahead

go on, everything dares you,

see how far you can go.

 

 

 

 

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