1076
a garden all paths
for ataraxia
a garden all paths
in the waking
on this page
or the next
tone it down
so as not to fall
move slowly through it
often even come to rest
as all at last
a grace descends
is it?
brews up breezily
the path is a garden made
and here
my friends and relations
home in the heart
all inch through it
leaves from a pond
my afternoon
at spider's edge
weather forecast now as
anything could happen
it won't be me
when the ants have this flesh
it won't be me in the history books
that paper cut-out kid's not me
all are holding their breath
I hope
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