Читать книгу The Glass Constellation - Arthur Sze - Страница 38

Sipping kava out of a tea bowl,

I am descending into a cavern that inhales

and exhales once each day. I see an alula

in a tropical greenhouse, the tracks

a bleached earless lizard makes in white sand,

the tracks my fingers make on your skin.

I see a spectrum of origami cranes

strung on thread at a Kurashiki temple,

Manchurian cranes in a cage and a salt

sumo ring. Papyrus stalks arc out of an urn

near the fireplace on the bedroom floor.

Is a solar flare a form of koan?

Blue larkspur in a glass vase.

A stalactite dripping into a pool of water.

Hush: there is nothing in ten dimensions

that is not dilating the pupils of our eyes.