I saw your angels on the far horizon
weeping copious tears of peach blossom
smudging
the first drafts of clouds
I saw Senlin's morning days go by-
the cost of losing music-
the rainbowed dust compounded and contained
the slander of mere starlight in American poetry
shuddering, shadowing forth
the orchards razed-
and the long white silence after
mary angela douglas 9 july 2010
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