9 is an epiphany, the energy entering the bottom tip,
traveling up the stem and circulating in the crown. An epiphany cannot be taken away.
I carried 9 adzuki beans with me for a day, talking to them
one at a time, then as a group, then holding them to my ear with eyes
closed. Hearing 9 uncertainties, 9 calls
to ration sadness. They slept through
the night with rose quartz in a jar of warm water. When I planted them I held them one at a time
under the dirt, my eyes closed, tuning to a steady humming under ground where
bean pulses waken. Notes, notes, I took
many notes all the while for the poem.
When they sprouted I held them in my mouth one at a time. I sealed my ears with plugs so the only sound
I heard was my teeth chewing adzuki thoughts to become myself. 9 thoughts for 9 requests for equilibrium,
then more notes for the poem were taken.
