Nothing-ness fills me
again. Once visiting a funeral
home, a child asked me,
why do the people die?

How do I explain the dark
side of life? A blunt trauma,
makes me jaded. One collapsing
process creates the black hole.

A nude, the tall figure, stands
on the rock, much venerated,
and you cannot take off the
eyes, deciphering the skin.

In the intense pain of―
learning, a fantasy of
looking out at a ghost deity
in the vegetable, springs a miracle.