nonvoice    echoes not

only an unmoved thought

can open

the pages rusted

in the ancient snow winds

in the breath of the universe

burning, dancing

a far-off story

is flowing far away

we and 

you exclude and

just can’t notice

there is a being

exposed

it’s too desolate

to call it a ruin

“Walnuts of Omphalos,”

someone whispered

the dawn

no one knows

the twilight

no one knows

let it wander,

a beast that cannot even chew

a petrified hinaichigo

called allegory

not knowing anything

the soul is eaten by butterflies

the tears are burning out

to desperately want

to know something is,

no matter how far it goes,

reaching not anywhere

nor even coming to mind 

since it’s shallower than a crack, 

nowhere to go

standing still, casting shadows

seeing all

no need to go anywhere

dates are locked

a being also

rings thinly like a paper

a world without depth  or

to refuse all depth

on a patch of this planet  dead

just  dead white

the eyes searching for nothing

the tongue asking nothing

the guts stuck out from the belly

the inedible are

left uneaten,

go beyond life,

thrive as time goes by

as flowers of the underworld

horns blooming in the Asphodel Fields

the lightening papyrus

yet invisible

yet unheard

the beast in winter

cries like a paper whistle, they say

is it a scream?

is it mad love?

disturbed hooves

remain the infinity of a point 

if it’s not sympathized with,

it’s not a story.