The light at my back
keeps me from whistling at the moonbeams
and her legs.
The Chinese girl with the waterfall hair
hides herself behind sleepy clouds.
If I died today,
my blood would pour into the sea
and the sea would still be clear.
For God filled the Earth with Chinese girls.
The air collapses in a billion
pairs of hands. A cup of jasmine tea spills
through a knothole in the floor.
(This is an older poem I kinda like...)
