A hush envelops
(or is hunted down, demanded)
A particular general stillness outlasts
the here-and-there leavings and goings of
everywhere

else

The crunch, familiar always
and always, somehow unfamiliar
of buckwheat hulls...

I sit.
The world's exhalations
my inspirations -
inbreaths of trunk and mouth
inbreaths also of xīn (心)

The headhome of the mostly-me,
like November waters,
phase-changes from
finicky fluid
to quiet, cooler tumultless
ice which, oddly melts the heart

And soon, and soon
(or longer, yes usually longer)
the phase becomes sublime

And then
and yes, and then
(and, yes and only then)
and all at once...




nothing.