FOR E.J.P. I once believed a single line in a Chinese poem could change forever how blossoms fell and that the moon itself climbed on the grief of concise weeping men to journey over cups of wine I thought invasions were begun for crows to pick at a skeleton dynasties sown and spent to serve the language of a fine lament I thought governors ended their lives as sweetly drunken monks telling time by rain and candles instructed by an insect's pilgrimage across the page - all this so one might send an exile's perfect letter to an ancient hometown friend I chose a lonely country broke from love scorned the eternity of war I polished my tongue against the pumice moon floated my soul in cherry wine a perfumed barge for Lords of Memory to languish on to drink to whisper out their store of strength as if beyond the mist along the shore their girls their power still obeyed like clocks wound for a thousand years I waited until my tongue was sore Brown petals wind like fire around my poems I aimed them at the stars but like rainbows they were bent before they sawed the world in half Who can trace the canyoned paths cattle have carved out of time wandering from meadowlands to feasts Layer after layer of autumn leaves are swept away Something forgets us perfectly Leonard Cohen