On the blue rim of porcelain plovers run up and back to the water’s edge, the same path to flee as to return, Ryokan would say. All he needed to know of irony, he knew: what is coveted will be broken by the body––an oyster’s craw, an infinite spiral of lemon rind, and here, a … Continue reading Shaving Bowl with Plovers, Reeds, and Waves
by Shawn Fawson
“While you are acting conscientiously and sincerely wishing and trying to learn the truth you cannot be wrong.” —Emma Darwin, to Charles On the hour she divided the teas and repeated his words: pursue, enfold, likeness. In this way she felt organized. Before he left for Bahia the horses bent low to the dark water. He … Continue reading Whatever Light Happens to Fall
by Shawn Fawson
It is foretold that dying comes into the body before the mind. An as-if kingdom has an effect over love like drying out. The “us” too close and the “you” and “me” too remote for the flooding in of goodness. The last White Cloud Mountain minnow swims in the aquarium and forgets how to fluoresce … Continue reading Bye for Now
by Shawn Fawson
