green tendrils
coil from my mouth
and then the curly leaves
variegated two shades of green
the woody stalks come on quickly
then red buds and blooms
float right before my eyes

the line across my forehead
same horizon as the sea
calm wide blue

my eyes
an open door

my face
this tiny garden
looking out to sea
my open palms
a chinese junk
with sails made of silk
bobbing lightly almost empty

a bundle of tie guanyin
ink stone and brush
coiled prayer beads
glow of yak butter lamps
quilt and chopsticks
smooth jade stone
siberian ginseng root
all tucked neatly
in the tao te ching

late afternoon
the time to sail
before red blossoms fall
and scatter around my feet
and the woody roots
think only of sleep

in the morning light
their spicy scent comes
from i know not where
close my eyes
again
and dream

i am the open door
to the sea
the clay pot of geraniums
reaching for the sun
the sky
all of it in me

i awaken
to find
i have not been
asleep