Now in time with
more instinctive ways––
where dims the ancient fast
and gives rise to undiminished night,
hatch-marks of sun through the nipa,
lanzones, hard green mango
mango with a velvet ripening, tart perfume.
I know I am always asking,
and I know questions are not always answered.
I know life on the edge, beneath a knife’s edge,
letting minutes pass
in desert solitude, committed.