there they are
the marks
that lay claim
to what is yours
without reservation
no need
for concern
heart mind
body
yours
for the taking
whenever
wherever
your prey
as they say
acquiesces
willingly
possessed
Month: January 2015
Fragment by Bian Zhilin
You are standing on a bridge enjoying the view;
Someone’s watching you from a balcony.
The moon adorns your window;
You adorn someone else’s dream.
translated by Michelle Yeh
Bamboo Pavilion by Wang Wei
I sit alone among the tallest of the tall bamboo,
pluck the lute, and whistle melodies, again.
This deep grove’s unknown to other men.
Bright moon, when it comes: we shine together.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Hearing a Flute on a Spring Night in Luoyang by Li Bai (Li Po)
Whose jade flute secretly soars in the night?
Spring wind scatters sound all over Luoyang.
The midnight flute keens a farewell song, “Snap the Willow Branch.”
Thinking of my old home and garden, I break.
translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping
morning coffee
to make me
alert
to possibilities
that await
on this
new morning
new year
old life
Hearing Cicadas by Xue Tao
Washed clean by dew, cicada songs go far
and like windblown leaves piling up
each cicada’s cry blends into the next.
Yet each lives on its own branch.
translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping
Seeing a Friend Off by Xue Tao
In water lands, night frost on reeds,
a cold moon the color of the mountains.
Who says our thousand-mile separation starts tonight?
My dream can travel to the farthest border pass.
translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping
a strong weakness: for E
or perhaps
a weak strength
whatever
the knees
though
do not lie
they knock
knock knock
whether sitting
or standing
or prone
deep breathing
required
whenever
your name
comes
into view
on calendars & time
the cleaning people
keep changing
the date
on my wall
calendar
before
I can do it
myself
not a race
or a reminder
just courtesy
and I
too grateful
for their
always cheerful
service
cannot say
don’t rush
the passage
of time
for I
am not
anxious
to see it
slip away
quite so quickly
one day
at a time
Fisherman by Liu Zongyuan
A fisherman spends the night under West Rock,
pails clear river water and burns bamboo.
Smokes vanishes, sun rises, and no one is seen.
The swishing oar turns mountains and water green.
Floating the central current, he turns to gaze at the sky
above rock where mindless clouds chase each other.
translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping
Leonard Durso 