Category: poetry

Changping Xiāngcūn

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On a long, solo, morning ride

Glides by a tired, dusty countryside

Slouched in languid angles of repose.

Over sagging homes and crumbling walls

Float magpie feet and strident magpie calls

From top to top of poplar trees.

And in the fields and orchards work goes on

Beginning, as it likely always has, at dawn

On stomachs of bread and soy.

A Poem Written in Six Minutes

The St. George

I think a lot of home,

And a lot about the past,

I contemplate what I’ll do,

What things that I know now

will last.

My mind runs miles

Around sodden, weary tracks.

What ifs, what mays, forgotten smiles

And even if I could go back,

What of that?

I have nothing to regret, other than the fact

That time and thought play tricks upon us all.

(I can’t help that, but regret it just the same)

I think a lot of home, and past

And know of course that what is gone is gone,

But keep thinking anyway.