Select a poem:
Some Dust

I bought a Chinese saké cup
   in San Francisco.
The man said it was
   a hundred years old.
It was not costly.
I liked it.
A small flower at the bottom
   with some dust settled there.

When I got home I found
the dust was not dust but
an imperfection in the glaze that would
   not come off.

We have to get over it in our minds!

For Jim Hartz