Читать книгу Trace - Eric Pankey - Страница 19

Primitive Water

Cherry blossoms on the ink-stone —

Gutters, leaf-choked, overflow —

The path along the ridgeback washed out —

Seedlings, saplings, a poplar girded with wrist-thick vines —

If not for the gnarled, knuckley habit of words I might at last have a purchase on silence —

The deer freeze, skitter, then fly —

Snare of antlers —

The burden and effort of constructing meaning —

The quick bickering of jays —

The river seen from above as the character for dragon —

Five crows roost and shake down blossoms —

Myth, not history, predates one’s childhood —

There one can disinter the gibbous moon, the essential Arcanum, the primitive water’s source —