Poetry

An all pin pricks again 
draws blood from empty hands 
blank papers fly. 
 
Trying to learn Braille 
to write a canto 
for unseeing Budha. 
 
Unbroken tinnitus violates peace. 
night is also blanking the vowels 
Pain has become wordless. 
 
Light can only be assumed 
fleeing from the moon. 
only breeze gives the hint. 
 
The burning grass scrolls back: 
there is no healer 
in the bush.