And everything was fine. And everything was fine.
No one was fit to notice
wonderful medicinal vegetable.
A white bowl containing fire was then struck across their backs
the roof
came nearer.
Purify the dead man’s care by the Japanese.
His ships on the rocks
cannot breathe
the image thrown in the river.
We ran down a street that was beginning to burn.
Confirming his omnipotence,
no ropes or physical ties
subtracted from it.
All stood naked before us.
We admired their dexterity softened by endless prostration.
You have not found it.
The well-wrung cloth
sits on a dozen traders.
He was alive because no-one is allowed to die;
dead creatures are ostracised and shunned.
His eyes rolled.
Three thousand boys and girls cherishing an aversion for death.
Buddha should be worshipped.
We saw the mourners flying kites consumed entirely by fire;
congruity in the flowers.
Two and a Half Ribbons 
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