Falling into place
The first Xenocratic lines
Straight and steel-wrought
Mathematical:
Finely measured harmony
Restrained in dark ink
Nineteen slender threads
Interlocking, embracing
Their involution
Autumn cornfield
Fertile golden kingdom
World-within-a-world
Softly shining stars
Perfect, remote in beauty
Splendidly untouched
Pearls crying from streams
Hidden deep in the forest
Singing yesterdays
Fast-falling flowers
Spreading their petals like snow
Gathering on hills
Coals glowing white-hot
Spray on the tsunami’s crest
Swallowing the land
Yet night-time darkness
Engulfs the faltering light
With a sable glove
The midnight seashore
Welcomes its paramount Nox
Sighing cold praises
Black is the dungeon
Lightless Gaia’s hidden caves
And the cat’s slit-eye
Yet deepest of all
The emptiness of absence
Between the lit windows
The beating heart, War
Unrivalled king of men
All raise his banner
Apelike, hard-clutching
Illusion of possession
For convenience
Manically rushing
Into the gulping whirlpool
To the smell of blood
North, south, east, and west
Hark to the horn-herald’s call
Collapsing inwards
Two men are sitting
Low on embroidered cushions
By a lantern’s light
Out in the field
A cicada plays its tune
Through the humid air
Laughing, one admits
Defeat gently with good grace
Blaming the sake
Then delicately
With rough hands they fill the bowls
Clearing the board.