the west is golden
and the sun is setting
in the M'ing Dynasty.

on one of these late afternoons,
it will be setting
in eternity,
bleeding to death
in the pacific ocean.

let's face it -- it only takes
a moment to take a wrong turn;
for M'ing to turn into Ch'ing.
no amount of cleansing
can make a dung-heap fragrant,
no amount of pulling
can make a shoot grow faster.

meanwhile, under this great black canopy of stars :

they come to me--
my dead ancestors,
dreams,
and lovers who lost me;
ghosts blowing smoke rings
whose triumph
is the defeat
of oblivion.

but only as long as i am alive.

i once sent a drawing of the calligraph
for "double happiness" to a lost lover.
the wind was tugging at my hair,
my eyes were as shiny as a hall of mirrors.
nearsighted, i couldn't see
what was written in the stars.

meanwhile, under this great gray covering of clouds :

i was wrong.
my dead ancestors,
dreams,
and the lovers who lost me
live on.

i am the ghost unfit for speech
who lingers long
reluctant to let go
of their dark monolithic shapes

and looming mysteries