July 31,2008, just past midnight
It's arrival just past midnight is a mere coincidence:
it would have flown into the kitchen had I been here
or not had someone else opened the door to let it in.
The cat of the mind has surveyed the countertop
and makes its jump: a dusky, black moth alight upon
a white countertop surely must signify something.
Perhaps it signifies how our minds make meanings
out of nothing. The mind is the great signifier and liar—
it helps to make sense of our world, yet it deceives
without our knowing. We live with this paradox.
What happened to my dusky, black moth? He's lit
upside down on the underlip of Zena's feeding cup.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem