Proof
So far no one's confirmed the words that say we're made of earth. Yet there they are in writing. A title on the blackboard — the teacher vanished without warning, his lecture gone undelivered. Tell me, you digger of deep wells, …
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Ghazal 26
If I follow in her tracks she stirs up trouble, and if I rest from the search she rises up in anger. And if on the road for a moment, out of loyalty, I fall on her tracks like dust, like the wind she flees. And if I seek half a kiss, a hundred taunts,…
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Mourning At The Strings Of My Concubine, Miss Yang’s Zither
Her soul has returned to the deep void, her spirit returned to mist: She stayed among mortal men for only eighteen years. Yesterday, I gave away her skirts and sashes to monks, My heart broke: they still were tied to the strings of her lute.
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Birthplace
What if time came to a stop? Surely the end would be struck dumb. Up on the hill the house where you were born is waiting for you to build it again. How and with what — bricks, wasn't it? The chimney's all you can remember: smoke vanishing in spirals like the string of a…
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Ghazal 42
Don't ask how many complaints I have about her black curls. I am so undone because of her that it's beyond telling. Let no one abandon heart and faith in hope of fidelity. I did. Do not ask me how sorry I am. With one gulp of wine which troubles no one I drew…
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Recording Events
in times of rebellion, the seasons perversely scurry by; on cloudy days, the sun is quick to set. speechless, I scratch my white head and lean, grief-stricken, on the eastern gate.
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The Future
If I flash, you'll appear. Backs turned from the present, how can they hope to greet you? You're just like me, predicted for the very place we'll miss each other. Like lightning and thunder— though we come as one, we're revealed as two.
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On the Summer Goddess who Should Be Nameless
There are two things you have to worry about about her: she opens up for you and she closes up on you, but you shouldn't worry too much about it because this is the way she is and this is the way you are: You just shouldn't mention her name. She loves you in her…
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Tune: Raise The Cup. No. 1
Fragrant grass on the spring bank in Pa-ling, mist thick in the willows, music fills the towers. The tune of a parting song: my heart is shattered to pieces. Today I bid you farewell a myriad times. Red flecked jade plates, gold flecked cups. I must urge you, …