She sees the mountain upside down.

With her long hair sweeping the fallen leaves she swings like a pendulum.

From the lagoon at sunset a hundred sparrows fly away.

Wishing them back she whistles softly. And downward she falls into the sky.

Remembering a girl on the swing who fell into the sky and vanished.

love is a place & through this place of love move (with brightness of peace) all places

yes is a world & in this world of yes live (skilfully curled) all worlds

A prefect poem, on love and "yes", both of which are hard to do and get to.

She writes in Spanish to someone she knew, but she never knew him very well at all. At her side are a list of words that are supposed to mean what she wants to say, along with a picture of the last time she saw him and a Coleman lamp. I am far away, she writes, importantly. All over the village lamps are coming on, people turn up their evening mentality and light themselves, they shine around car games and food.

Actually, I am not so far away, she writes. I am extremely close.