No Question Plenty ways to get there, yes, but not from here, so wander familiar dots and lines till feet are city sore, sun sets beyond hexagon towers, rooftop, seaward, tangles clouds. Roosting beneath, jade figures, honest sinners, ships adrift smelt down to crystal gardens, tug on nets all night. We know spitfire and the stork, arcane itch of wool, mirror tension atman: shiver and embrace— but who saw grain of wood tie empty river up in knots? So slender and circumspect side lot redbud blossoms taut: chalky pink and milky blue. No question that streets follow every angle of the moon.
I’ve heard Mr. Gary Snyder say that you have to earn your hard poems, that is, out of respect for your audience. I think I agree and I am definitely not there yet, but reading these heady late Tang poets and being in a very tied-up mood, I couldn’t resist a one-off. I hope it at least doesn’t appear purposefully obscure. A draft as always. Any thoughts? Glad to hear ‘em. Thanks for reading.