the sameness of living runs keys across the doors of cars.

the same type of people on and off the train, the same white people abandoning train at the 96 station, absurd clockwork.

kiyomizu dera

at the temple, two innumerable stones face
each other across a path and, eyes
shut, you walk from one to nearly the other,
through the throng of children, on
uneven pavement where bricks are
tiled haphazard like daily trials,
stretching out to where the eye can see nothing
you walk, but the eye cannot help it--it winces
open, breaks the charm.

in the walk from one stone to the other, your wait sinks
resigned into the spring you did not drink:
the time no-longer-yours is let
go guilty from the marble of love, luck

past superstition, clattering
back down the pebble steps to disperse in
rain mountains, shelves of air--
you follow

The blog's back! I like your strawberry liquor account, and the new alias? I really haven't written anything at all besides yelp reviews; things are going by too fast to document any sort of settling emotion about them. Hennyway, maybe (hopefully) I will have something to post soon! <3