A dancing dragon winds
through streets of Chinatown.
Head pivots, nods, and turns
as it looks all around.
I hope its golden eye
will not catch sight of me
because its big, curved fangs
do not look so friendly.
You may say its paper,
and those teeth can't do harm,
but there's life in its moves
that's cause of my alarm.
a bird alights
onto a windswept wire;
then seems to doze.
Those who don’t take many things seriously, themselves least of all.
white smoke rises downriver:
backdropped by black mountains.
village breathes fresh air:
the last before stalks are burned /
the valley goes gray.
I don’t get attached. They’ll always let you down in the end. I took them to the Andes, the Himalaya — places most people only dream of going — but, ultimately, they just fell apart on me when I needed them most.
saplings sprout
from the ornate trim
of a once-grand mosque.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 