Trace
Presence is kept as pressure, not profile. A mark appears, then gives the stone back to rain.
a small record of weather, stone, and return
The page keeps almost nothing: a wet step, a moss-dark imprint, and the spare interval before a door opens.
Presence is kept as pressure, not profile. A mark appears, then gives the stone back to rain.
A green surface records what passes over it without becoming an archive of the passerby.
The poem begins at a closed gate and turns it into attention: quiet, precise, almost luminous.