On the way to work each morning you walk by her:
in green grass, face upward, horseless and bronze-armored.
Not once has she glimpsed at your office building
...
Riding boots on
You came forward in the manner of sorrow
At my window
...
After my guide said chao,
I waited to see you again.
*
Beyond the Atlantic's pale blue,
...
On silver wing, a rainbow word
Soars above one dream of yours
This word of bent light is made
...
Here, look at this moon:
See it walk through Beijing, pass a blood red palace,
Dip into white jade petals.
Together I bring you two
...
Garden through temple window:
I have seen
where you sleep
and listened
...
This is that moment of waiting
When I face my window
With two closed eyes
...
Born in Cincinnati. Began writing poetry while in US Navy. Live in Southern California.)
St. Joan's Sword In Late Afternoon Sun
On the way to work each morning you walk by her:
in green grass, face upward, horseless and bronze-armored.
Not once has she glimpsed at your office building
where armed security guards care just about your name.
You step off the elevator, enter a door and dutifully
go through the quotidian order.
Meaning well, you decide to meet an acquaintance
during happy hour.
On the open courtyard, in the five-o'clock sun,
you stop and notice her sword ablaze against a blue May sky,
a defiance ascendant with her sad eyes.