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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 9, Number 2, June 2015


Sonam Chhoki
Thimphu, Bhutan

The makeshift heart

I return to the hills, to the blue pines and the wind’s rhythm. In the twilight, the lake is a black wound. Flashes of a blue thrush trilling in the growing dark. I no longer pray but place a stone on the cairn in your name. As if moved by this mute offering, Khandu, the guardian of the sky, scatters a few stars.

Year’s end
shadows journey
across scorched fields



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