To a lotus beaming in the grime

Behind the house,

The light is very clear

The parasol is painted

We moving
Guy at the
Wheel sd
“I see
They got it 
Finished” But
Nothing is

Every day someone returns
To the field

Before his wanting becomes a rainbow
He must pause.

The waters rise up
In a dull sheaf

As if miracles were due

But it is only
The harvest;
Only the buffalo’s bulk
In the water,

The new figure of Buddha beside the road
Between Phu Xuan and Tan Thuan Dong
Shivering in the cold
Flood of vast brown sky