Where are the eyes of the night, the soul and
the morning star? I am here, listening
to the roll of the globe under my feet
hard-pressed and sore.
Writer in San Francisco, CA

Slid into heaven
Thanks to raven wings and bones
It is a dark room
Scattering of beads, thunder
I wake in the morn
poem written in Tanka form
Where are the eyes of the night, the soul and
the morning star? I am here, listening
to the roll of the globe under my feet
hard-pressed and sore.