For one, I do not know much.
I learn a little by listening
to songs I found one month ago.
Or by closing my eyes and gazing
at the patterns formed by the competition
of two sources of light. And I remain
on the lookout for these processes,
for a methodology to approach you,
to change, gently, intelligently.
For now, I remain a child,
anxious in the presence of any other,
frozen by any simple question.
Does monk see me weep?
You can only see here, she explains,
but the explanation evolves, eventually here includes there,
what I took at first to be there, down in the gallery,
where foreground and background unify, and outside too,
where a grove of birch cradles my tired friend.
We can’t have everything, he explains,
but a birch grove, or an elevated walkway
amidst black bamboo, these are important.