
paper lanterns
in the Daoist temple
turn my mind to Fall.

paper lanterns
in the Daoist temple
turn my mind to Fall.

one pink-laden tree
stands amid a wall
of spring greenery.





Mist touches cold water and moon embraces the sand.
I’m moored for the night near a tavern on the Qinhuai.
The singing girl doesn’t know the empire is in bitter ruin.
Across the river I hear her singing “Blossom of the Inner Court.”
Translation: Barnstone, Tony and Ping, Chou. 2005. The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry: From Ancient to Contemporary. New York: Anchor Books.
Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.
Dear Sir,
Of late, we find your kungfu lacks vigor and precision. We can no longer, in good conscience, keep you in the vanguard against invading Mongolian hordes.
Try to look on the bright side.
Sincerely,
Sumwun U. Yoostahno

naked branches
of the frangipani
bud with blossoms.



from still water
juts deadwood on which herons
perch with their shadows.
Where would you go on a shopping spree?
A used bookstore is the only possible answer, but even then “spree” would generally be excessive for my volume of purchases – by common usage.
I’ve never been a recreational shopper. But, as “sprees” go, I’ve gone on more of the shopping kind than the murdering kind. Funny, those are the only kinds of sprees I’m aware of. I guess something has to die to make it a spree.


