To those who question
My existence, I concede
I’m nothing much on the way
To nothing at all.
I confess I am often
Gnomic, epigrammatic,
Declarative, sarcastic,
Dark, obscure, xuanxue—
Rarely expressive
Of warm emotions,
Not often illustrated
With bright images.
I drink ink and rest in your
Brushpots, make nests in your drawers.
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