Cups Raised Up Deeply Poem by James McLain

Amongst last nights
sleeping flowers i only they did i lay ensnared i was.
They with my scribe drinking/drunk is the moon by me;
full raising my cup 'asked i'
bow in thanks flowered moon offered for drinking with me,
its reflection and mine in the last wine my cup,
just the flowers and us;
Deeply i hear and i sigh for the flowers in sleep cannot drink,
and my friend goes wandering around
and the flower i see with me never stops breathing
moon rises not saying a word; without their other friends here,
i can but to employ these two or three open as they are
and me and my one friend more/less for the company;
during the time of their happiness weak i am each blossoms,
i also must be happy with moon light all around me;
i sit and i sing and it is like if the moon is accompanied;
then if I dance a flower or two lift their heads,
deep cup that is my shade moon dances with me;
while not yet drunk, I am happy to transform flower and moon
and my shade into friends,
but the other i shared when i drank too much,
us all many too the parts;
however those are friends I can always count on
the latter of which few most have
and many of moons deep emotions i more than some;
the cup is hope for that during one night when all the
full moons and flowers will meet,
cups raised up deeply in the way the center milky manner.


...
L.P.