PEN America Blog
Mother, I am darkness. / Since the morning of the old / when Adam and Eve rose from grass, / I have been the long body’s sorrow. // Children sing like birds / and bloom like flowers / on the shining street. / In the sunlight, there are shining people / with heavenly minds, but I cannot taste / their mild wine with my forked tongue.
In the realm beyond conventional reason there can be found opportunities to transcend the categories that corrupt our social interactions.