how much burden do the ghosts of everyday scars
carry? the faint smell of their nonpresence is
all it takes to weigh down their mourn theirs
is the past and the circle theirs is the next
day and the next rounding off the circle the scars
of nonbeing go about their childlike ways
tracking noons fearing the thought of the coming
dark and the next & the weight of it all -
In gorges, dragons voice age-old explanations.
In pools ten hundred feet deep, you hear them.
Cruel waves keep strict accounts, drinking
blood to nurture children and grandchildren,
but without ancient Kao Yao’s gentle justice,
feasting on prison-drowned spirits is empty.
Something there, mystery haunting darkness,
the futile talk of ghosts goes on and ever on,
gorges hearing cascades cry lament, gorges
mourning widowed gibbons. There’s nothing
human in the sound of gorges, gorges where
blades of churning water slice at themselves,
and now, sage hearts all hidden away here,
who marshals these bitter and drowned pleas?
- Meng Chiao, from Laments of the Gorges
The tidyness of verse:
grain that is smaller than earth's
witnessing girth home that is
Larger than the pronouns
of wasted wish sound that is
vice, skin and rupture this is
The tidyness of verse
sharp as the smell of knowing
the birth of grain, home & sound -
what seeks the would of war, the hallowed gorge1 &
spill of light in want of
light?2 the seethe that seeks
the feel of night furiously free, joyously I3
seek alone the crux of
flight who seeks the should of war?
Who can welcome laments of the gorges,
gorges saying What will come will come.
- Meng Chiao, from "Laments of the Gorges"
I hear it singing, / I sit up, awake. / It is a mountain rising, / lovely and immense.
I see myself / in the shine of it / and I want light.
I am full / with greed. Give to me
– Linda Hogan
maiN hooN aazaad —- mujhe fikar naheeN hai koi
aik ghanghor sakooN, aik kaDi tanhaai
mera andoKhta hai –