untitled
on horseback
making a silent bow...
thin mist

Issa
(1803)
Words are but the vague shadows of the volumes we mean.  Little audible links, they are, chaining together great inaudible feelings and purposes. 

Theodore Dreiser, 1900


lilacs—
a road that ends
in blackflies

*

begging for silence:
a thousand crows
and the wind

*

another tooth
lost forever—
evening crickets

*

a deer's rib cage
sifts through the breeze—
dandelions

*

milkweed rises
in a pasture of haze—
my wife's eyelashes

Andrew Riutta
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