“Day won’t dawn again in a thousand years,
and what can all our wisdom do about it?

… Trust yourself
to the mountainside. It will take you in.”

– T’ao Ch’ien

we have approximations, data
data that

caresses the hounds of certain
ties that

toss about in search of small
fires – we

have approximations that lie
in order to

sound more like real lies      we
have data

where is my deep?

“a tethered bird longs for its forest, a pond fish for its deep waters”
– T’ao Ch’ien

no insight, and science remains a conspiracy
of facts     chuangtzu’s

monkeys scramble with feynman’s possibilities
till the broth rings

true     rumi underwrites his love of love
with a misanthropic

eye     do the monkeys scramble to sing a
better broth or do

they slip into hanumanhood?     this broth is
my deep my voice