Ephemera
Along the incandescent banks of the Yangtze — the green star of the wood inside /
the lingering smell of nearing maturity — O Pearl of Cold Mountain
whose idle clouds crag in the sap.
Under the sun-blackened meridian / slaved stamen of this lantern’s glow — the peal of her pleasance rolls naked as a ship seduced upon a sea of dragon-fly wings.
Windless — a lone white heron ascends the thoughtless day / the sky moves bottomless and deep beneath the oarsman’s quiet boat.