close my eyes
all the places I’ve ever been
fade away
all the lives I’ve ever lived
melt away
and the dust
weighing me down
blows away
I am transported
going home
oh my
at last going home
going home
in Moda: November 16, 2019
the smell of roasting chestnuts
light fading into dusk
a dog barks
a cat lies serenely
on top of a car
and these old legs
climb the hill
toward home
packing a suitcase
it begins simply
packing a suitcase
what to put in
what to leave out
for the few days
remaining still
but in the act
resolution
and the quick beating
of my heart
my old home
there
where the ice cream parlour
once stood
an army recruiting office
Kesselman’s gone
where my mother shopped
for jewelry
the bank on the corner
where Maryanne worked
a discount clothing store
the hardware store
both Johnny and I
drove delivery trucks for
now Wicker Heaven
gone Atlantic Avenue Deli
the Arcade Movie Theatre
Woolworth’s Five & Dime
just that wind
that blows down every street
in every town
as strong as ever
in my old home
From Two Cheyenne Poems: I Am Singing The Cold Rain by Lance Henson
i am singing the cold rain
i am singing the winter dawn
i am turning in the gray morning
of my life
toward home
the long way
taking
the long way
home
is not just
about distractions
there’s also
more scenery
I Thought I’d End My Days in a Hainan Village by Su Tung-p’o
I thought I’d end my days in a Hainan village
but God sent Wu-yang to call back my soul.
Far, far, where sky lowers and eagles pass from sight:
a hairbreadth of green hill–the mainland there!
translated by Burton Watson
Creek Crisscrosses the Meadow by Su Tung-p’o
Creek crisscrosses the meadow, banks scarred where water rose;
in sparse woods, frost-burned roots stick out at a slant.
Little boat with a single oar–where’s it going?
Home south of the river to a village of yellow leaves.
translated by Burton Watson
Middle Years by Wang An-shih
Middle years devoted to the nation, I lived a fleeting dream,
and home again in old age, I wander borderland wilderness.
Looking south to green mountains, it’s clear I’m not so alone
here; on spring lakes, they crowd my little-boat life all adrift.
translated by David Hinton
The Temple of Su Wu by Wen T’ing-yun
Though our envoy, Su Wu, is gone, body and soul,
This temple survives, these trees endure. . .
Wildgeese through the clouds are still calling to the moon there
And hill-sheep unshepherded graze along the border.
. . .Returning, he found his country changed
Since with youthful cap and sword he had left it.
His bitter adventures had won him no title. . .
Autumn-waves endlessly sob in the river.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
Leonard Durso 