A koto chord splays
like a kiri wood door opening
the resonant center
of the universe
A woman bends in her obi
over a just so stand of flowers
petal rich colors against the shoji
very domo very
We sing song of old
pearled on tongue
behind crack in iridescent smile
forgetting cost of first find
in mobius strip of moire mind.
new blue laid on gold of old.
Lack fills with silver, gold, brass,
shouts out broken bits
in swing of life.
It is taste of break that aches the egg of find.
i am a wildcat a hare a roadrunner.
you are a motel, a mountain ridge, a loudspeaker
all of you amplifies coyotes heartbeat to the canyons.