I
There are those you expect him to own and those of which he is

       not yet aware
those catalogued and counted and those he hasn’t thought to

       dream up
those he tolerates on account of his daughter and those in which

       she takes no interest
those permitted access to the inner palace and those who are

       denied it
those who have names and those in whom no names can be found
those that divide into like parts and those that don’t
those that announce their presence, waiting on the threshold for a
sign, and those which cannot be perceived by the senses 
those that are singular and those whose numbers increase without

       limit
red ones
and finally those that hesitate between this world and the last, that

       exist only in the mouths of those who should know better. So it

       is that when he hears of a water demon made of the parts of

       other animals––the body of an otter, the spurs of a rooster, the

       bill of a duck––he nods in approval, dismisses the consul. In

       such an animal, he wonders, perhaps even he cannot believe.
                    II
You say you name things according to their nature

but flat-foot doesn’t half describe it. Water-mole

is better, but you wonder if you don’t need

new ways of seeing, especially when the teapot

tells more about the room than it does about the tea

when the stables disclose the eastern gate but don’t

lead anyone to water. You scrawl

                  your name

                            on a scrap

                                     of paper, drop it in the stream.

And then, unwrapping folds of silk

       among and amongst the reeds

       again and against the clouds

thudding you think: the parts correlate, but where’s

the integrity? Better to see properties as qualities

a felt reality, wet ankles. You know

       you could spend all day

describing the colour of the doorframe

or just say duck-egg––either they get it

                                               or they don’t. 
So turn the page, feel the stiffened fur. You think:

this beast now belongs to (b) embalmed ones.

You think: only motives are ulterior.

		                            You think: tomorrow

	           the provinces.