new (nothing is)

there is somewhat of solomon trips tongue and negative space filling in with black ink. sennsei. the recommended i. commended she. reads the feet no longer there. one old, a scent of paint. one fresh, the lingering smoke. the teeth of december. she leaves traces from her home in the northeast, the dry southwest, america, all lands of spanish and english. if i follow there, silent, snow-covered cheek, breast, a watch i haven't bought, a letter i haven't received (sent), something new under a new sun...



(forming the katakana,)
if i trace the lines
over and over while still,
i will see new sounds