A Poem: Wood, Japanese AV Mosaic versus Zen Koans

the grain of wood that runs,
followed by fingertip calluses
like bark on bark,
a rough mirror.
---
japan is the summer country
and all color resides there
and the smell of sweat is
a mixed pheromone of sadness
and purity
and beauty
and lies.

a worship of transience-
the world passing-
still allows garish outfits
of impossible lace,
with shifting squares
over the parts that struggle
to show through.

in japan, they never show it
not the front,
and definitely not
the phenomenon of
interpenetration.
they speak of such things only in zen,
in riddles,
are frank and rude
only in paradox.
in truth,
all is surface.
cute and cutaneous.

beauty is
skin deep.