狩猟の季節
the shepard-toned whip
turns pain into pain, body
into body new
between here and next,
as with blessings, stars and sheep,
i count red places
the eyes stained by sun,
the ripe corners of the mouth,
the flush fingertips
my tongue cracked open
spills like yolk and bleeds yellow
in private corners
fault lines, cross hairs, and
love love love, upon the heights
i step into blue