Russell Susumu Endo

Diogenes ate a sandwich and it was delicious!
The olives in the crusted bread swirled like planets in a cosmos

without end, meaning there was an end but it was not the end, rather
the border of one understanding expanding into another. The sun

that warmed the nascent tree buds was not pitiless
but enduring, taking long seasons to fill out its amplitude

concentrating energies in fragrance, color and flavor—
Diogenes rolled the olive around in his mouth

remembering a time on the green when Leila leaned back
for a moment—before onslaught of Spring rain and winds—

resting her weight on the planet, hands marked
with earth's indentations.