Bamboo

I set down the pen for a little while,
warm, golden grass, ebony ink— 
silly little panda face munching bamboo 
etched into the woody top, 
opposite a blackened steel tip

 

When I returned to it, 
took up the battle once again,
I noted for the first time kanji
which, for some ungodly reason,
I understood, despite knowing precisely 
four, maybe five bits of Japanese—
and reading none

 

Words were there, words infinite in their 
diminution and their number that
I had so carelessly neglected—
I picked up my pen for a little while more, 
and found it had become a blazing sword

 

-AJ Mayfield

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