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Of a birth uneven
Of a birth uneven From a small village Calloused by calamity, I watch my fellow citizens Walk dogs more Handsome than their masters. I hear their wild calls Of Ni Dieu Ni Maître And smile to myself Under a thatched roof Inviting rain to enter Wherever it can. Often my friend Ling-hui Will stop by… Read more
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And still…
My name died on the branch many years ago. Sunk rotted into the earth unforgiven. One day burst forth, bore fruit and thick-fleshed leaves. One day again died in the shade of a withering glance . This time rotted roots and all, and always, and all, and still… Read more
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Were I Li Po
The tiny virtues of so little joy— Overcast remorse winks at itself Through the mirror of my face And beckons my departure With a flick of a finger Indicating the direction of a Path not there. Were I Li Po, I would, perhaps and in no sense of jest, write: All winter I slept like… Read more
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The Madness of Mr. Lee
The tiny voices, Like so many ants Infiltrating my ear, More purr than word, Crawl about and Do the work of mental ghosting, Leaving no trace, save for The minute droppings expressed In the course of a day’s madness. Read more
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The Other Side of Chuang Tzu’s Dream
I felt before I saw, Became savage, emerged from a knot of Wood, flicker of sunlight Etching a cryptic calligraphy Before the falling of thought, A dark stirring so deep— No escaping the next Chapter of the dream. Read more
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Easter Comes but Once a Year
Children play Adults brood As the charitable mood Paces like a prisoner in debt to solitude. The hyacinths scream from their garden of pain And the winds shudder over the sickly maples. Those who know what death is may straddle its bucking fears, all I can do this fine morning is love the eye that… Read more
Umbriate Press Poetry 