THE TEN THOUSAND THINGS
“A person can hold seven items in the mind at once.”
I think (one) to write about these seven things my mind can hold: (two) a slice of cold Mutsu, the quick spurt (three) of tart-sweet juice, (four) the thought of taste budding on my tongue’s nubbly surface (five), to seek to find the certain word for fruit dissolving in the mouth, or something (six) not apple, like the truth, or sunlight pouring amber (seven) through a curtain. By the time I’ve come to know of these, they’re gone; but words they spawn wing through my mind, following the leader over the edge of moment like wild geese: one sea, its drops—one field, a million spikes of grass— a sky of unseen stars are jumbled in the time this poem took to write: what ...
