New York Times :: A Poet's Spirit Springs to Life on Death Row
Article

> Only twice in twelve long years
> Has the Self in me transformed
> To weighing less than a cent,
> And blended with the evening,
> Or heard ringing in my ears,
> Or seen a star do its thing,
>
> Umbrellaed aloft on air.
> Swooping into a huge swarm
> Of mosquitoes and gnats, there,
> On velvety wings, I went
>
> Gliding and eating until
> Chilled to my buoyant marrow,
> Convinced not to eat my fill,
> To leave some for tomorrow.

posted by Tomohiro Idokoro @ 9:31 PM

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