dawn comes with cold clothes
and frozen toes. i think of the rise
and fall of the bed covers where you sleep

i walk on the edge of ancient chinese texts
facing the snow falling with total abandon.
the split wood blanketed in deep white sadness
asks if love is only to be found in negligees
and nakedness

no need to regret the divide of distance
we can be as intimate as i was
in a sampan with Tu Fu
who sailed the yangtze 1,200 years before i did

you and i also sail on a gently rocking cloud
in the middle of a long dream
affectionately clinging to each other
amidst the aroma of wood smoke
mixed with pages of poetry