in a year of Japanese enigmas
the poets left home to see:
only the moon
floating on a lake=
abandoned by the sky.
it’s you who’ll brush away
this calligraphy of tears inscribed;
it’s what you always do-
so that the pearl-drop moment
stands effaced
and my living soul with it.
I’m thumbing through my
Frommer’s Pop-up Book of Stars
not sure of what to say-
I’ll ask you softly
so that you do not hear:
in the white jade mountains
with such a biting wind-
how did they find
the courage to write
about the plum blossoms
mary angela douglas 10 october 2011
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