The looming walk home.
Each step a slanting shadow.
Simple looks plain,
to a city – state mystic.
No longer illuminated by zazen.

My normal life, a dream now.
A draped body, left abandoned
in the eggshell.
To feel a slow coiling,
in dark silence.

But, a street-corner preacher –
points the way.
Drifting cherry petals,
and moonlight dimmed.
Far off rain, on the
sound of waves.

Shanghai quarantine poem #15

Locked away for weeks.
A life on hold and
strange hibernation.
Still looking out of a window.

Each hotel room,
takes a shadow.
Coming to rest on my soul.
No more jasmine in bloom.

And you made this…..
Until there was nothing left.
Only dragonflies in amber.
And fog – bound roads.

So, I danced between
death and a new feast.
Then love came,
drenched in plum rain.

And, I walked again.
Until, there was nothing
to see but light.
And dancing blue magpies.

Of this exile, and this journey –
you will soon know.
And each name will be called.
Through a thinning mist

And of the strangest sea,
that walked inside my soul.
And kept me warm,
without a full stop.

It still glints,
and tastes like spring.
A swallowflight away,
it still guides my way home.

All over again.

Shanghai quarantine poem: Day 14

A drowning man,

pulled into a covid world.

‘Do not resuscitate’-

say the dancing slum lords.

Out of the fog, a coyote choir

wake in a strange land.

And sing the old songs.

Razored through, with

body count after body count.

In a hotel, a poet waits –

bolted and chained.

Listening to the shrieks

of crakes – hopping in place.

Yet another false dawn.

On a bare branch,

plum rain beads –

suddenly materialize.

As if by magic.

A new dream time,

and the future of my bones.

Inside of me, a firefly

spits out a deep blue reach.

An ancient site…..

catching the rain.

A new leaf appears,

piercing the first mountain star.

This is just the way it is.

 Sometimes, it is hard
to see a life beyond
a hotel window.
There is no life to touch.
No candlelit feasts – or
witnesses to this
splendid isolation.
A single car passes by,
but never stops.
Such terror, ‘do not
come close to me’.
I cannot even hear the birds.
Or taste the sacred beard
of a single tree.
And I learned how some are.
No breath anew,
just the old ways.
Slum lords, dancing
in the clouds.
But then…
I shall soon tell all.
Of an indifferent and cursed earth.
A sea sucked out,
and lifeless fish – drifting away.
But also, of a love
and pretty form- that came my way.
You sent me the clowns,
when the rest forget.
Or didn’t care.
A partial witness
to these hotel days.
And my days of resurrection.
 

• 

Shanghai quarantine poem #12

Awake at night,
the winter moon
on horse back.
A world in one colour,
and taste of distant love.

Left adrift on the livid sea,
I call your name.
A solemn promise,
and flashing brightly.
My hand is holding yours.

Heart of the earth,
and flawless morning sky.
The whole world shines,
with dazzling pureness.
And endless ages

A face behind glass,
everything locked twice.
Each moment,
a fragile lace domain.
 
The jagged sheers
of those who see a number.
Not the poet, the father
and the lover – shame on you.
 
An imprisoned body,
but not the mind.
Each word softly speckles,
the love given by a glorious few.
 
But things are made new,
and sometimes – made right.
In brittle showcases,
we few show dignity
and humanity.
 
My pain, and lost days will wilt.
But I will address the fog,
and those tilting windmills.
And talk, and write –
of this splendid isolation.

Moments passing by,
trying hard to write.
I feel the pain, to feel alive.
A kind of blue, coming
from a distant place.,
Outside the slum lords,
dance across the sky.
And swarm into the night,
to steal a kiss.
But words, remain words –
a samurais sixth sense.
For all mights sake –
this is not the end.
Between mountains
and forest trees.
I have seen the ocean
A farewell, to a
departing time.

A small bird flying.
One wing- flap
for freedom.
One wing-flap
for a death rattle.
And a life
of abandonment.
Is this how it ends….
The birds inherit
the earth?
Stretching out,
I think not.
I hear the roar of sea.
And distant
shrouds of beauty.
Each moment,
a time to exist.
Into a new day.

Shanghai quarantine poem #8

 Curled up in my room.
Trying to figure it out.
Between sleeping
and dreaming.
A small colony
of fireflies dances in.
Rebuilding my life……

Shanghai quarantine poem #7

 
A single bird,
marks the sky –
absorbing the pain.
My only companion
for two weeks.
 
And then what?
 
My lungs won’t
fill with pity.
Or the thin
remains of winter.
Wilderness means
something else here.
 
With wings enough,
I hear the sound –
of jade bells ringing.
Then, we will see
our promised land.