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Archive for November, 2011

A road cuts through the red earth
in the rainforest of Costa Rica–

looking left out of the window of the bus,
I see the roots of the trees

hang exposed

on a red wall of earth–
and then I notice a little bird

goes flitting
through those roots.

Jane Beal
Monteverde, Costa Rica

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BUTTERFLY

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This morning I dreamed I followed
widely spaced bills, ringing in the wind,
and climbed through mists to rosy clouds.
I realized my destined affinity
with An Ch’i-sheng the ancient sage.
I met unexpectedly O Lu-hua
the heavenly maiden.

Together we saw lotus roots as big as boats.
Together we ate jujubes as large as melons.
We were the guests of those on swaying Lotus seats.
They spoke in splendid language,
full of subtle meanings.
They argued with sharp words over paradoxes.
We drank tea brewed on living fire.

Although this might not help the Emperor to govern,
it is endless happiness.
The life of men could be like this.

Why did I have to return to my former home,
wake up, dressed, sit in meditation.
Cover my ears to shut out the disgusting racket.
My heart knows I can never see my dream come true.
At least I can remember
that world and sigh.

Li Ching Chao

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–not pen. It’s got

that same silken
dust about it, doesn’t it,

that same sense of
having been roughed

onto paper even
as it was planned.

It had to be a labor
of love. It must’ve

taken its author some
time, some shove.

I’ll bet it felt good
in the hand — the o

of the ocean, and
the and and the and

of the land.

Todd Boss
in Poetry (Nov 2011)

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