A sort of journey in china

I set out one day to lose myself
i took a set of old china and dropped each piece
one by one
into the river
onto the street
upon the snow, the grass, the sheets

do you know how to fall? to fail?
to shatter because you have felt the immobile earth
press apart your hidden seams

to smack a yielding flow, buoyant,
unbalanced,
in slow motion slide sideways and spin
in wordless eddies on a verge where light is bent

to settle noiselessly, scattering the frail
innocent snow around your feet, a tiny scarring tempest,
push of descent and rush of air into the void of where you were


to make no real impression except to be nuzzled by
parted leaves of grass and turn the green below you into mud
from hiding light

to sit blank upon the bed except for lines of stylized scenes in blue
painted beneath impassive gloss. still i did not lose myself
though i knew better now the things i lost