Today, on a day in May, a shattering noise.
At the lakeside, the green mint invites me to sit and practice forgetting.

The golden snub-nosed monkey took a position at the public university,
everywhere the noise of chains, the noise of alphabet letters.

Is the wild mint really out there?  Leave the question open.
Who can make great contributions, when the lake surface is covered in mist?

When good schools teach math, they make a diagram of an opposition
between an odd cone and primal chaos.  From the start, my air conditioner,

in the chest cavity of the man-made lake, has been choking and clattering......
Peel back the mint leaf, the ignorance the vessels inside bubble up,

and I have an endless human history to adorn —
the truth is absent, random plump arms raise at every turn;

a fact, a plant’s incandescent shame,
if it can really stop the sorrow, well, that’ll be a miracle.