ride the Han without a maskdrink the oxygen in
let the wind seethe
around my knees
with respect to rare stars seen at night
look forthrightly though opened eyes
the dark blue contrasted with twinkling bright
sore vision's remarkable sight
not squint and rub
even bursts of burning hay
in the azure blown away
trash of Buddha ash dissolved
skyward silky streaks of soot
in pants of heaven pocketsthe Han in khakis slipping away
stops to reconsider
in irreversible streams
in dreams it seems
then blue skies turn to gray
leaves on distant mountain trees
i'm petrified to look
are gone again before the dawn
sharpness being not the norm
once was there once more
11-16-14
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