what do you say to your favorite poet writing to you about san bernardino. i don't remember being so impressive a year ago. the snowcapped mountains of san bernardino. it's t-shirt and shorts weather here says he, and bitterly cold. i don't remember being so pretty a year ago. last year this time, was i in hong kong, yunnan, or the glooms of canton? i remember he wore a traditional chinese gown, his long hair tied back, with dissidence written on his fore arms. do you miss your home your motherland your reign upon middle kingdom o poet? and i'm tired of poets and their tragic ironies, self-consciousness, meddle nonsense.
i want to sleep on porcelain painted with golden and silver, and dip my feet in lotus seed.