by Ash Dean [easy-media med=”8414″ mark=”gallery-DCBfvo”]
We lost the moon in the river again.
This keeps happening.
I paddle against the stream
to steady my craft,
& watch the orb
recede into the murky depths
to lurk with mammoth mud carp:
illumination
distorted by silty flow. Holding below a rip,
on the lapping surface
I discern a dim amorphous glow,
faded blot of backlit shine,
like watching TV through tears.
I can’t cipher a gibbous
(waxing or waning), a half
or quarter though.
How will we tell August
from September? The monsoons are light these years
& floods
no longer
spill over us.
How will we know
when
to return
to our hometowns,
to eat mooncake,
to cover our doors in red,
to sweep the tombs of our ancestors?
How will we begin our poems?
& learn to be
both changeable & certain
at the same time:
How will we learn to love?
To allow another:
to surface within our cells
clicking away
within & without
like some frenetic strobe
9 September, 2013 Suzhou, China
On
It’s been something like five thousand years
since I wrote:
skies gone from blue to grey
to purple.
and gossip: The gossip that both ruins and
saves lives
Everyone is trying to get in or out:
first one then
the other.
It amounts to not much and a lot at once.
we stopped counting:
though many live and die
according to the total.
I’ve been getting up early
to wander: sometimes dogs or children
will follow.
it’s a thing I can do.
without much time for counting:
doing a thing
is what I’ve settled on.
air can still be breathed,
we drink the water: listen
& dance.
It is always this way;
with a song.
something to take wind
& take away
the wind:
a way
to say
we go
on
9 September, 2013 Suzhou, China
Pingjiang Road
平江路
Moonlight seeps into the hutong
old clothing still hangs out
lovers separate at the canal bridge
early april mosquito buzz
past soft cheek flesh
a man with a cart singing
Lychee Lychee Lychee
Spring a thousand
years long
new fruit tomorrow
then the monsoon
4 April 2012 Suzhou China