March 24, 2004

poem, re: beverly

"Meeting a Tourist on Her Way Back to the Capital"
after Ts'en Shen ca. 740
 

I gaze west toward my home, the contrail is endless


My sleeves never dry . . . from tears


I meet you now at the bus stop, no phone here, no laptop,


I trust you to tell everybody I'm OK

 

contrail.jpg
Posted by 'wordsman at March 24, 2004 11:10 AM