Full moon, the Nanjing walls, bicycle bells.
Two children huddle in the 10 o’clock movie crowd
Against the plunging cold. The air foretells
Snow, moonlit snow. Low voiced, dog-eared, heads bowed,
Students seep out from libraries into the cold. (more…)


Light breeze on the fine grass.
I stand alone at the mast.

Stars lean on the vast white plain.
Moon bobs in the Green River’s spate.

Letters have brought no fame.
Office? Too old to obtain.

Drifting, what am I like?
A gull between earth and sky.