






old wasp nest:
looks like the whole hive
hulked its way out.

on a narrow ridge,
covered with fine dust,
my foot slips. I’m awake!




one hundred birds
startle at my presence;
one eyeballs me.

I
The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.
II
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!

a blossom falls
into the water:
i look. it’s gone.

curb crows
stand in a row.
what’s the sky say?
Reeds cover the tiny island.
Shallow streams cut through the cold sand.
I see the Southern Tower for
The first time in two decades.
How many days since I moored
Under this willow tree?
Mid-Autumn Festival is almost here.
On the rocks of Yellow Crane,
Do my friends still reside?
This old place has many new sorrows.
If I bought wine and we cast off together,
Could we be young again?
Are you superstitious?
Not even a little.