An all pin pricks again draws blood
from empty hands
blank papers fly.
Trying to learn Braille
to write a canto
for unseeing Budha.
Unbroken tinnitus violates peace.
Night is also blanking the vowels
Pain has become wordless.
Light can only be assumed fleeing from the moon.
Only breeze gives the hint.
The burning grass scrolls back:
there is no healer in the bush.
