Plum Rain


Chinese Landscapes
Upon departing late from the Surging Waves Pavillion where I left my umbrella

Moonlight seeps into the hutong

old clothing still hangs out

lovers separate at the canal bridge

early april mosquito buzz

past soft cheek flesh

a man with a cart singing —

Lychee Lychee Lychee

Spring a thousand

years long

new fruit tomorrow

then the monsoon


Upon remembering that I was awakened last night by Jiyoung hunting a mosquito

plum rain began overnight

as the reach between sleep

and half-wake watch

slowed from tremolo to memory


Returning from Carrefour with groceries on a bus travelling down People’s Road

under an overpass

a fruit-seller

waits out a summer rain:

two baskets

full of lotus hearts


with drips:

On this bus

I draw a circular sun

in the window fog


from behind:

A moment’s hold

Caught through the wide open noon

of a solar eye

A single drip reflecting

back at me:

the withering weight

of this world:

a dwarf pine, an amoeba

a jittery magpie,

a right whale’s perfect breach


in the south pacific sheen


Returning late after a walk in the Expo park

The city has learned to hold the weather

the way a mountain wears a crown of clouds.

Walking home through the expo park at night:

under a powdery sky, illuminated kites above:

Lit up like Las Vegas Piasa birds: The wind finding a way

to teach the city about desire.


At home


throw shadows of leaves,

on the window

watching the show together, your shoulders

are tiny, I cup them with my palms

the maple leaves are pointed:

the images resemble dark stars, that enlarge

as the beam draws near


as if exploding

are suddenly gone

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