Зимородок - Яна Кане

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is darkness.

      There is darkness.

      There is darkness.

      All there is, is darkness.

      Until slowly, slowly

      Contours form,

      A faint outline emerges:

      “Let there also be light.”

      Realities

      we create a thin veneer of simplicity and predictability

      over terrifyingly unmanageable chaos

      and call it reality.

Anastasya Shepherd

      We call it reality

      And consider the matter settled,

      So we can turn our attention to

      Making sandwiches for the school lunchbox,

      Submitting the quarterly forecast report,

      Walking the dog,

      Writing the thank you note.

      At least, that is how it is

      For some of us,

      Some of the time.

      We collect data about it,

      Quantify the uncertainty

      Of our measurements,

      Publish papers in academic journals.

      We put ironic quotation marks

      Around its edges,

      Take selfies.

      We blaze with anger about what it is,

      Emblazon on our banners

      What we want it to be.

      We split into tribes, go to war,

      Mangle and kill each other

      Under the pretext

      That there is one right way,

      One right answer to every question

      About the definition

      Of a pin, a dance, an angel;

      About the way to count how many…

      We beat our heads against it,

      Search for the path, the mantra, the koan,

      Meditate, keep diaries,

      Create sand mandalas of great beauty,

      Sweep all the colors together,

      Let the river carry them away

      As we fall into insanity,

      Rise to enlightenment,

      Or the other way around.

      We pick it up like a toy, a ball.

      We run across sunlit grass,

      Laughing,

      Tossing it back and forth.

      We forget it in the gathering dusk

      Under the lilac bushes.

      It is time to go back in,

      To get some sleep.

      At least, that is how it is

      For some of us,

      Some of the time.

      Constructivism

      Proof by construction is the path

      That God Himself has set in math.

      To prove that chaos can be transformed

      Into a world, the world was formed.

      A choir of angels came to be

      Singing: “Hosanna! QED!”

      But man, a thing of clay and dust,

      Had little wit and too much trust.

      Soon he was fooled and led astray.

      And we, his children, to this day

      Remain a weak and bounded race.

      Induction for the finite case

      Is all we do, till in the end

      Each one must meet the final N.

      But there is yet a baser proof.

      It’s branded by a fiery hoof.

      Proof by negation seeks to alter

      The very truth. And should you falter,

      And in your pride or desperation

      Seek to invoke the dark negation,

      Repent! Or you should ever rue

      Your “Let the opposite be true”.

      Double Negative

      It is like a sword that wounds, but cannot wound itself…

Zenrinkushu translated by R. Blyth

      Nothing is certain.

      Nothing can be guaranteed.

      Not even nothing.

      American Gothic

      She dressed properly,

      She spoke quietly,

      She loved modestly,

      She died peacefully.

      Harmless, humble,

      God's lamb…

      Damn!

      Supernova

      Loss drives concealed love

      To go supernova.

      It blows its cover

      With a flood of blinding light.

      It bursts out,

      Piercing space with rays of radiation.

      It screams and screams,

      Pressing hard against the walls of reality,

      Pushing apart the boundaries

      Of the universe.

      Trees dreaming in winter

      In deep winter the sleeping trees

      Dream of branching out,

      Spreading wider

      Than the reach of their earthly life.

      Their roots drink in the stillness that pools

      Beneath all layers of the ground.

      Their crowns bloom with constellations.

      They hum and sing with winged beings

      Who are tinier than the smallest insect,

      Greater than the largest bird.

      They drop their luminous fruit

      Into the stream

      That flows far beyond

      The shores of the known world.

      Soap bubble

      God as a soap bubble:

      Water, breath, form.

      Sublime, radiant,

      Evanescent, eternal,

      Emerging again and again,

      Beguiling the senses

      With rainbow illusions,

      Holding the light of existence

      With perfect clarity.

      Kingfisher

      Indigo and russet

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