17 December, 2014

Chinese, X



swing low
sweet chariot, coming forth
to carry me home




home from China
I can smell grass cuttings
and blue sky

10 December, 2014

Chinese, IX

the mist, sprayed
the lilies, plastic - and yet
my airport temple




my airport temple
so careful, your design
artificial, yet robust
built to withstand
the ten-thousand children;
each morning -
one by one, your dusted leaves;
each morning -
ink, paper, brush replaced;
each morning -
your mourning, for you are alone.

but wait! he comes!
entranced by waterfalls
hid behind pillars
lanterns dance as he runs by;
be happy, now
my old friend -
my airport temple




temple blessing
waiting for the ink to dry
so I might fly