O’Keeffe’s Home

For the greatest American woman painter of the twentieth centuryPerhaps this is the loneliest homeso far from the mundane worldThe wind blows over the wild lowlands, telling usOnly one person waits here

These highlands are closest to GodOtherwise you wouldn’t hearnature’s songs becoming colorunhurriedly passing through that pure world

Your hands are an enchanted languageCow bones and stones are adorned to make a black doorWho knows how heavy the mandala’s sighs wereas you were dying

O’Keeffe, the incarnation of a dreamYour nihility and mystery were unsurpassedbecause the existence of reality has never revealedthe entirety of a woman’s life