facts, reported again and again his speech
was childlike at times, newly broken from its shell,
an expected inadvertency might well secret
among the regulated rows of magical recitative
that his thumb and index finger wildly uttered
what his halting kanji failed to encompass.
A simple fact not quite meeting itself:
the language of childhood stretched across a border
that would confront the silence of the poet with silence
to reveal that which moves was not poetry after all.
to The Song of Chi Pai Shi
To Mu Courtyard
To Musing Lobby
To Noguchi Lobby