I suppose I knew. Some bugs eat paint. Having put the finishing touches on a watercolor. I fell asleep.
a beetle
carries a gleam of light
into the roses
carries a gleam of light
into the roses
The chanting continued. In the temples. And the same stars passed over Gautama. Passed over me.
jewel thief
in the middle of the night
falling stars
in the middle of the night
falling stars
Morning awakened. The grass green town. Still. Chanting.
blue flowers
in a tiny garden
the baby’s eyes
in a tiny garden
the baby’s eyes
I rose. The painting on a table. Riddled with spaces. Where eyes and flowers once shone.
innocent bystanders
one by one they drift away
tomorrow’s stars
one by one they drift away
tomorrow’s stars
Robert Witmer
the other bunny 