Читать книгу The Glass Constellation - Arthur Sze - Страница 26

I plunge enoki mushrooms into simmering broth

and dip them in wasabi, see a woman remove

a red-hot bowl from a kiln and smother it in sawdust.

I see a right-hand petroglyph with concentric

circles inside the palm, and feel I am running

a scrap of metal lath across a drying coat of cement.

I eat sea urchin roe and see an orange starfish

clinging below the swaying waterline to a rock.

I am opening my hands to a man who waves

an eagle feather over them, feel the stretch

and stretch of a ray of starlight. This

black raku bowl with a lead-and-stone glaze

has the imprint of tongs. I dip raw blowfish

into simmering sake on a brazier, see a lover

who combs her hair and is unaware she is humming.

I see a girl crunching on chips at the Laundromat,

sense the bobbing red head of a Mexican finch.

Isn’t this the most mysterious of all possible worlds?