Leery of perfection, the Japanese master
in work of wood or stone or ink leaves
a single flaw that marks the piece
a part of someone’s contingent life,
the work of very human hands.
My art, my life, these wild tangles
of flaw stretched over a frame of folly –
I would be content for them to bear
the tiniest marks of perfection,
gentlest knocks on the door of heaven.