the face of the moon
sheds her shimmering veils
until the night sky
goes quiet again

to give the charm or bite the leaf
a river coursing swift or deep
through horn or through ivory

at around noon
grey eyes toward the ground
in swastikasana underneath
a circle of blue

(from a prison cell)


//

Phaedrus:

how (ti) does it shine (phainetai)
by you

O Socrates

the logos?

234ξ

τί σοι φαίνεται
ὦ Σώκρατες
ὁ λόγος

//

🌑