On the ground
that magpies walk.
A year slowly turned.
Old shadows buried deep.
New love dragged
into the light.
A year for wings
and celestial lovers.

​It rains in Hangzhou.
​And the trees shed leaves.
​Everything seems fragile,
​like a glass.
​Beyond the mountains
​the sun and the moon
​hold hands.
​And beauty is portrayed
​in a thousand words.
​Healing those gaping wounds.
​To warm the world
​and leave no kiss untouched.

​Year after year
I look in the mirror.
Pen in hand
and paper by my side.
On the poets face
a poets face.
Some sadness
but mostly gratitude.
A life poem yet to be written.
A love poem already begun.
And if I look, sun on every
street – dearly loved.
​

The road to Hangzhou was long.
How does one bear
being a wondering poet.
Who uses life on the streets
to the blossom symbol –
so alien to many?
There is no grief in this.
For I look for even the partial moon.
And between the chattering classes,
and the midnight fireworks.
I turn to you my love.
Happy new year –
we have a life to live.
​

​There is a sky in Hangzhou.
​Sometimes the image of a dove.
​Sometimes, (mostly)
a morning tide…. and you.
​Flashing on the crests of waves.
​As if you are calling me.
​Whispering, breathing –
​and I quicken my pace.
​But still flowing calmly
​at the base of the earth.

​When I can’t sleep,
​which is too often.
​A spring bird comes to me.
​Like a shaft of light.
​To announce that
​that you are waiting.
​With you body and soul naked –
​surrounded by the ocean.
​And all the clouds
​smile up at heaven.
​As the sky breathes in,
​and out.

Some people ask me
what I am pursuing?
In between the misty
streets and dried voices.
I tell them I want to
decide which way
my soul shall go?
But I am not a spirit
armed with jealous care.
And I do not just want
to live in dreams.
I am a spirit prepared
and rest upon my words.
This is the way.

​

Faceless bones
was my land.
Dark waves
only faintly blue.
And all the magpies
had all but vanished.
How quite the first
rays of spring.
But I followed spring
through the cold nights.
Spent my days moon-viewing
and dreaming of that
precious mountain path.
So, wake my sweet pea
and let us talk of beauty.
As we gulp down
the mountains, the oceans
and the moonlit skies.

​

​The rust stains my frame,
​as I abandon a winter nest.
​But you spoke to me
​”Come with me and I
​will drape myself on you”.
​And I thought, then
​our nights can begin.

So, I have left.
​Like a long
dawn it is over.
The silver throats
of the foreign birds
finally silenced.
But I am still on her lips.
Naked in her wombed room.
And my true love and I
are still together.
​