Lost in thought, not quite.
Thickening crowds
as if I am crossing worlds.
A child echoes her mother’s
call, filled with stars.
Hometown names
are discussed.
And the baby cries,
in every language.
All this on the metro
to Longxiangqiao.
Wild ink
A Wandering Poet
As I walk around I like to record what I experience. Through poetry, ideas and thoughts I hope I can share some of these experiences with you.
A Wandering Poet 