i

 

I went back to my hometown looking for Circumstance, obviously.

Willows lined the paths between fields out of a sense of responsibility.

 

No one spent the grain tax,

and we found a reason to say sirocco at least once a day.

 

i

 

All signs in Shanghai are written in the same font.

But even the liars there don’t agree:

do we serve the self who remembers, or the self who lives?

 

i

 

The beginning of a faraway rushing wind (encountered in late spring and before lying down)

was once the way of the world: to be loved by, felt once more, created.

 

i

 

After his death the physicist had his watch strap divided among his children:

a daughter and two sons. They made it into a memorial for him.

They buried his sleeping clothes among the blue mountains.

 

They heard every drop of water which fell that day.