Home Landing
 

Having nothing better to do, I kill

Time by looking at a traditional

Chinese painting on my iPad

Much enlarged, it appears like

A plain sheet of rice paper

Smeared with ink. I view it

 

In the presence of bonsai; I

Drop several thick strokes to the floor
Of history, leaving a few fine lines

 

Behind the sofa, & failing

To catch a colorless corner

Between black and white

It is a landscape newly relocated
Into my heart’s backyard. Then I sit

On my legs, meditating about

No light in the picture, no

Shadow of anything, no perspective

As in hell. Isn’t this the art of seeing?