***[There are holes in the road] Poem by Hasso Krull

There are holes in the road. There are holes in the earth.
Stepping forward I notice: there are holes in my boots.
Where there are holes, my socks show through,
I can see them, I know this because there are holes in my skull.

When rain falls into water, there are holes in the water.
As the droplets fall, I hear them because there are holes in my ears:
I stand and breathe because there are holes in my nose,
I move forward and think. Yes, there are holes in my thoughts.

There are holes in my words. Lao-zi thought
everything necessary came from emptiness—but tell me, friend,
what use would emptiness be if it wasn't made of
holes beside holes? Large holes. Small holes.

Holes exist. Birth and death are holes.
There are black holes in the universe—maybe there are exits
to another place made of holes.
Exits are holes. The mouth, the heart, the intestines are holes.

Translated by Brandon Lussier