I don't go into town anymore.
I bring out the emergency in people and I don’t know why.
When I speak, women fall sick and stars
drop like dead birds from the night.
My home, instead, is on a ridge
where horses bow their heads and bear the elements.
Alone, I conduct experiments. I communicate with storms. I stack stones and make signs that only I can understand.
Is it possible to love the world so much it pushes you away?
My silence has a shape. A mirage in the desert.
I have learned to sit so still I can make my heart stop.