Morning

wild tai-chi circles

hunch and then roar

 

two eyes open in dawn

red melancholy –

the only earth

for the heart

 

vermilion sun

to shine on the memory

sudden within a rock

four petals of essence

anywhere

 

a moth joins the horizon

curtains of light

from punctured clouds

in the expanse of sand

only one stone is fully awake

 

many have gathered

in syrups of time

 

anything could happen

while my youth is

still dying for black illusions

 

four hints of essence

 

somewhere

 

white sorrow

resting as sweetly

as snow

on the solitary fields

of my thought

 

the beautiful

wrinkled chaos

that left a scar

on the softer skin

of a black revolving rose

Modern Poetry