- I Still Feel You, For Kobun, by Angie Boissevain
- Nothing, Sesshin Poem by Dennis Powell
- Silence, Sankaram by Carolyn Dille, written on her pilgrimage to India
You have become a murmuring in my wrists,
high whine inside the collarbone,
eerie familiar whisper
whenever I wake and become an ear.
Your low white words stalk slow as egrets
up and down the dark knobs of my spine.
Year after year your insights burn
Into my knees and ribcage, sometimes
flaming into sudden useful knowledge.
Your constant presence still lives in me
from inside out like good food.