six lines two broken between sky and water; conflict
in autumn woods; tree frogs singing.
Remember when I kept drawing the same card over and over until I realized it wasn’t about the card but the book and I found Tao?
It’s happening again.
Not the mapping of stars writing ancient alphabets hexagrams carefully drawn diagrams of barn renovations or words letter by letter. There’s something else.
Last night I dreamed of black bear running back and forth between us like a happy dog fear turning to sorrow as shots rang my eyes opened. Driving to town I saw crow on a wire scratching his head. Later I struck the index finger of my left hand hard with the hammer. The nail will turn from blue to black and be lost. A new one will grow in its place.
moderately desperate dreams cleaning up broken glass not quite belonging lost-not-lost between woods tall grass a narrow uphill logging road between blindness-not-blindness able-not-able come morning a raven chased by raucous crows