






Like water spilling over rocks?
Like a bead's roll across the floor?
Cliches, they fail to tell the story,
As no doll shows life's splendor.
But the Earth' unsupported spin through space,
As the heaven's pivot and sprawl for more...
If you could find how it all began,
You'd see it'll be as it was before.
The high and bright realm of the gods
Returns to nothing and nevermore.
And if you lived ten-thousand years,
You might find yourself in days of yore.
NOTE: The late Tang Dynasty poet, Sikong Tu (a.k.a. Ssŭ-k‘ung T‘u,) wrote an ars poetica entitled Twenty-Four Styles of Poetry. It presents twenty-four poems that are each in a different tone, reflecting varied concepts from Taoist philosophy and aesthetics. Above is a translation of the twenty-fourth of the twenty-four poems. This poem has been alternately titled “The Flowing Style,” “Fluid,” “Motion,” etc. by varied translators from its Chinese title of 流动.

on the hillside,
amid the wildflowers,
watching clouds shape-shift.

a cloud of pigeons
wheels about in a broad loop;
a thin batch returns.



the tree’s trunk
engulfed by vines & leaves, though
little light shines through

amidst bright colors
and fragrant aromas:
sense overload.

frenetic fly,
spastically flying loops:
lands from whence it flew.
How do you waste the most time every day?
YouTube. I usually go there in a productive pursuit, but then fall into the rabbit hole.